11 


LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 
MR.    GEORGE  COBB 


iC.SB    LIBRARY 
X 


THE   SCOURING 


WHITE     HORSE 


THE 


SCOURING  OF  THE  WHITE  HORSE; 


OR,   THE 


LONG  VACATION  RAMBLE  OF  A  LONDON  CLERK. 


THE  AUTHOR  OF   "TOM  BROWN'S   SCHOOL  DATS." 


ILLUSTRATED   BY  RICHARD  DOYLE. 


BOSTON: 
TICK  NOR    AND     FIELDS 

MDCOC  T-TX. 


AUTHOR'S  EDITION. 


FIFTH     THOUSAND. 


RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 

STEREOTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BY 

H.  0.  HOUGHTOX  AND  COMPANY. 


OLD  AXD  KEN*. 

See  how  the  Autumn  leaves  float  by,  decaying, 
Down  the  red  whirls  of  you  rain-swollen  stream; 

So  fleet  the  works  of  men,  back  to  their  earth  again; 
Ancient  and  holy  things  fade  like  a  dream. 

Xay '.  see  the  Spring  blossoms  steal  forth  a-maying, 
Clothing  with  tender  buds  orchard  and  glen : 

So,  though  old  forms  go  by,  ne'er  can  their  spirit  die. 
Look !  England's  bare  boughs  show  green  leaf  again. 

KlXGSLEY. 


PREFACE. 

THE  great  success  of  the  festival  (or  t(  pas- 
time," as  it  is  called  in  the  neighbourhood) 
which  was  held  on  White  Horse  Hill  on  the  lyth 
and  1 8th  of  September,  1857,  to  celebrate  the 
u  Scouring  of  the  Horse,"  according  to  immemo- 
rial custom,  led  the  Committee  of  Management  to 
think  that  our  fellow-county-men  at  least,  if  not 
our  country-men  generally,  would  be  glad  to  have 
some  little  printed  memorial,  which  should  com- 
prise not  only  an  account  of  the  doings  on  the  Hill 
on  the  late  occasion,  but  should  also  endeavour  to 
gather  up  the  scattered  legends  and  traditions  of  the 
country  side,  and  any  authentic  historical  notices  re- 
lating to  the  old  monument,  of  which  we  west- 
countrymen  are  all  so  fond  and  proud. 

I  had  the  good  or  ill  luck  (as  the  case  may  be) 
to  be  the  only  member  of  the  Committee  whose 
way  of  life  had  led  him  into  the  perilous  paths  of 
literature  ;  so  the  task  of  compiling  and  editing  our 
little  book  was  laid  on  my  shoulders. 

Installed  as  chronicler  to  the  White  Horse,  I 
entered  with  no  ill  will  on  my  office,  having  been 
all  my  life  possessed,  as  is  the  case  with  so  many 
Englishmen,  by  intense  local  attachment,  love  for 
every  stone  and  turf  of  the  country  where  I  was 


viii  PREFACE. 

born  and  bred.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  have  zeal, 
and  another  to  have  discretion  ;  and  when  I  came 
to  consider  my  materials,  I  found  that  the  latter 
quality  would  be  greatly  needed.  For,  what  were 
they  ?  One  short  bright  gleam  of  history  from  the 
writings  of  old  monks  a  thousand  years  ago  ;  tradi- 
tions and  dim  legends,  which  I  and  most  Berkshire 
men  have  always  faithfully  believed  from  our  youth 
up,  and  shall  go  on  believing  to  our  dying  day,  but 
which  we  could  hardly  put  before  general  readers  in 
serious  narrative  ;  a  dry  notice  here  and  there  by 
some  old  antiquary  of  the  seventeenth  or  eighteenth 
century  ;  stories  floating  in  the  memories  of  old  men 
still  living  j  small  broad-sheets  from  country  town 
presses,  with  lists  of  the  competitors  for  prizes  at 
rustic  games,  newspaper  articles,  remarks  by  Com- 
mittee-men and  umpires,  scraps  of  antiquarian  lorej 
abuse  of  the  Great  Western  Railway  for  not  allow- 
ing the  trains  to  stop,  bits  of  vernacular  dialogue, 
and  odd  rhymes.  What  could  be  done  with  them 
all  ?  How  out  of  the  mass  could  a  shapely  book  be 
called  out,  fit  to  be  laid  before  a  fastidious  British 
public,  not  born  in  Berkshire  ? 

Not  exactly  seeing  how  this  was  to  be  done,  the 
only  honest  course  which  remained,  was  to  follow 
the  example  of  a  good  housewife  in  the  composition 
of  that  excellent  food  called  "stir-about" — throw 
them  altogether  into  the  pot,  stir  them  round  and 
round  with  a  great  spoon,  and  trust  that  the  look 
of  the  few  great  raisins,  and  the  flavour  of  the  all- 


PREFACE.  ix 

spice,  may  leaven  the  mass,  and  make  it  pleasing 
to  the  eye  and  palate  ;  and  so,  though  the  stir-about 
will  never  stand  up  in  a  china  dish  by  itself,  it 
may,  we  hope,  make  a  savoury  and  pleasant  side 
dish,  in  a  common  soup  tureen. 

The  raisins,  and  those  of  the  best  quality,  have 
been  furnished  by  the  great  artist  *  who  has  kindly 
undertaken  to  give  us  pictures  ;  the  allspice  has 
been  contributed  by  the  Committee  and  other  kind 
friends,  and  I  have  done  the  milk  and  meal,  and 
the  stirring.  The  responsibility  therefore  rests  with 
me,  though  the  credit,  whatever  it  may  be,  rests 
with  others.  But  let  me  insist  here,  at  once,  that 
if  there  be  any  failure  in  the  dish,  it  is  the  fault  of 
the  dresser  and  not  of  the  subject-matter. 

For,  suppose  an  intelligent  Englishman  to  be 
travelling  in  France,  and  to  find  the  whole  popula- 
tion in  the  neighbourhood  of  Tours  turning  out  in 
their  best  clothes  for  a  two  days'  holiday  on  a  high 
hill,  upon  which  the  rude  figure  of  a  huge  hammer 
is  roughly  sculptured.  On  inquiry,  he  finds  that  the 
figure  has  been  there  long  before  the  memory  of  the 
oldest  man  living,  but  that  it  has  always  been  carefully 
preserved  and  kept  fresh  ;  and  although  there  is  no 
printed  history  of  how  it  came  there,  yet  that  all 
neighbouring  men,  of  whatever  degree,  associate  it 
with  the  name  of  Charles  Martel  and  his  great  vic- 
tory over  the  Saracens,  and  are  ready  one  and  all  to 
rejoice  over  it,  and  to  work  and  pay  that  it  may  go 
down  to  their  children  looking  as  it  does  now.  Or, 
*  Doyle. 


x  PREFACE. 

to  come  to  much  later  times,  let  our  traveller  find 
an  eagle  cut  out  on  a  hill  in  Hungary,  similarly  hon- 
oured, and  associated  with  the  name  of  Eugene, 
and  the  memory  of  the  day 

"  When,  the  old  black  eagle  flying, 
All  the  Paynim  powers  defying, 
On  we  marched,  and  stormed  Belgrade." 

Should  we  not  all  thank  him  for  giving  us  the  best 
account  he  could  of  the  figure,  the  festival,  and  all 
traditions  connected  with  them ;  and  think  he  had 
fallen  on  a  very  noteworthy  matter,  and  well  worth 
the  telling  when  he  got  back  to  England  ? 

Well,  here  we  have  the  same  thing  at  our  own 
doors  ;  a  rude  colossal  figure  cut  out  in  the  turf,  and 
giving  the  name  to  a  whole  district ;  legends  con- 
necting it  with  the  name  of  our  greatest  king,  and 
with  his  great  victory  over  the  Pagans,  and  a  festival 
which  has  been  held  at  very  short  intervals  ever 
since  the  ninth  century.  Rich  as  our  land  is  in 
historical  monuments,  there  is  none  more  remark- 
able than  the  White  Horse  ;  and  in  this  belief  we 
put  forth  this  little  book  in  his  honour,  hoping  that 
it  may  perhaps  fix  upon  him,  and  the  other  antiqui- 
ties which  surround  him,  the  attention  of  some  one 
who  can  bring  science  and  knowledge  to  bear  upon 
the  task  to  which  we  can  only  bring  good  will. 

For,  alas  !  let  me  confess  at  once,  that  in  these 
qualities  our  book  is  like  to  be  sadly  deficient.  The 
compiler  has  no  knowledge  whatever  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  tongue,  or  of  Saxon  or  other  antiquities. 


PREFACE.  xi 

There  is  indeed  of  necessity  a  semblance  of  learn- 
ing and  research  about  the  chapter  which  tells  the 
history  of  the  battle  of  Ashdown,  because  the  ma- 
terials for  it  had  to  be  collected  from  a  number  of 
old  chroniclers,  whose  names  will  be  found  in  the 
foot-notes.  But  any  fifth-form  boy,  with  industry 
enough  to  read  about  20O  small  pages  of  monkish 
Latin,  may  master  the  whole  for  himself  in  the 
originals  in  a  week  ;  and  for  those  who  cannot  do 
this,  there  is  the  jubilee  edition  of  the  chroniclers, 
put  forth  by  the  Alfred  Committee  in  1852,  where 
a  translation  of  the  old  fellows  will  be  found  in 
parallel  columns,  together  with  much  learning  con- 
cerning them  and  their  times,  in  foot-note,  preface, 
and  appendix.  This  translation  I  have  followed 
in  all  but  a  few  passages,  in  which  the  text  used  by 
the  translators  has  probably  differed  from  the  one 
which  I  have  seen.  For  the  Saxon  Chronicle,  I 
have  used  Ingram's  translation. 

But  while  we  do  not  pretend  to  be  antiquaries, 
or  historians,  or  learned  men,  we  do  claim  to  be 
honest  average  Englishmen,  and  will  yield  to  no 
man  in  our  love  for  our  own  quiet  corner  of  the 
land  of  our  birth.  We  do  think,  that  whatever 
deeply  interests  us  cannot  fail  in  a  degree  to  interest 
our  countrymen.  We  are  sure  that  reverence  for 
all  great  Englishmen,  and  a  loving  remembrance 
of  the  great  deeds  done  by  them  in  old  times,  will 
help  to  bring  to  life  in  us  the  feeling  that  we  are  a 
family,  bound  together  to  work  out  God's  purposes 
in  this  little  island,  and  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 


xil  PREFACE. 

earth  ;  to  make  clear  to  us  the  noble  inheritance 
which  we  have  in  common  ;  and  to  sink  into  their 
proper  place  the  miserable  trifles,  and  odds  and 
ends,  over  which  we  are  so  apt  to  wrangle.  We 
do  hope  that  our  example  will  lead  Englishmen  of 
other  counties,  to  cherish  every  legend  and  story 
which  hangs  round  any  nook  of  their  neighbour- 
hood, connecting  it  with  the  times  and  the  men 
who  have  gone  before  ;  to  let  no  old  custom,  which 
has  a  meaning,  however  rude,  die  out,  if  it  can  be 
kept  alive  ;  and  not  to  keep  either  legend  or  cus- 
tom to  themselves,  but  (like  us)  to  put  them  in  the 
best  shape  they  can,  and  publish  them  for  the  ben- 
fit  of  their  countrymen  ;  we  of  the  White  Horse 
Committee,  at  any  rate,  hereby  pledging  ourselves 
to  read  all  such  publications. 

I  must  here  take  the  opportunity  of  specially 
thanking  three  of  my  fellow  Committee-men,  and 
two  other  friends,  for  the  trouble  they  have  taken 
in  various  ways  to  lighten  my  work.  If  this  book 
at  all  fulfils  the  objects  for  which  it  has  been  writ- 
ten, the  thanks  of  my  readers,  as  well  as  my  own, 
will  be  due  to 

E.  M.  ATKINS,  Esq.,  of  Kingstone  Lisle. 

Mr.  WILLIAM  WHITFIELD  of  Uffington. 

Mr.  HEBER  HUMFREY  of  Kingstone  Farm;  and  to 

JOHN  Y.  AKERMAN,  Esq.,  Secretary  of  the  Society  of  Ami- 

quaries  ;  and 
Mr.  LUKE  LONSLEY,  of  Hampsted  Morris,  Berks. 

And  now,  without  further  preface,  we  commend 
our  "  stir-about  "  to  Englishmen  in  general,  and 
west-countrymen  in  particular. 


THE    SCOURING 


THE    WHITE    HORSE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

RICHARD,  said  our  governor,  as  I  entered  his 
room  at  five  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
31st  of  August,  1857,  running  his  pen  down 
the  columns  of  the  salary-book,  "  your  quarter- 
day  to-day,  I  think?  Let  me  see;  you  were 
raised  to  X  a-year  in  February  last, — so  much 
for  quarter's  salary,  and  so  much  for  extra  work. 
I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  have  been  working  so 
steadily  ;  you'll  deserve  your  holiday,  and  enjoy 
it  all  the  more.  You'll  find  that  all  right,  I 
think ; "  and  he  pushed  a  small  paper  across 
the  table  towards  me,  on  which  my  account  was 
stated  in  our  cashier's  hand,  and  looked  at  me 
over  his  spectacles, 
i 


2  THE   SCOUEING   OF 

My  heart  jumped  at  the  mention  of  my  holi- 
day ;  I  just  ran  my  eye  down  the  figures,  and 
was  glad  to  find  the  total  a  pound  or  two  higher 
than  I  had  expected.  For  I  had  lately  learnt 
short-hand,  and  had  been  taking  notes  for  our 
firm,  for  which  I  found  they  allowed  me  extra 
pay. 

"  Quite  right,  Sir,"  I  said ;  "  and  I'm.  sure  I'm 
much  obliged  to  you,  Sir,  for  letting  me  do  the 
extra  work,  because — " 

"  Well,  never  mind  that,"  said  he,  with  a  little 
laugh ;  "  I  shouldn't  give  you  the  extra  work, 
Richard,  if  it  didn't  suit  me,  or  if  I  could  get  it 
better  done  anywhere  else ;  so  the  account's  all 
square  on  that  point.  There's  your  money." 

And  he  pushed  over  to  me  a  very  nice  sum 
of  money.  I  dare  say  you  would  like  to  know 
what  it  was,  reader.  NowT,  I'm  not  going  to  tell 
you.  Why  should  you  know  just  what  my  in- 
come is  ?  I  don't  owe  you  or  any  one  else  five 
shillings,  and  have  a  very  tidy  account  at  the 
savings'  bank,  besides  having  paid  for  all  the 
furniture  and  books  in  my  room,  not  very  far 
from  Lambsconduit  Street,  which  I  reckon  to 
be  worth  fifty  pounds  of  any  man's  money  ;  so 
you  see  my  income  is  enough  to  keep  me  before 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  3 

the  world,  and  I  wish  more  of  you  could  say  as 
much. 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged,  Sir,"  said  I  again, 
as  I  wrote  a  receipt  over  a  stamp  which  I  took 
out  of  my  pocket-book,  and  stuck  on  to  the 
bottom  of  the  account. 

"  No,  you're  not,"  said  our  governor,  quite 
short ;  "  it's  your  own  money,  fairly  earned. 
You're  not  obliged  to  any  man  for  giving  you 
what's  your  own."  He  is  such  an  odd  fellow 
about  these  things.  But  mind  you,  I  think  he's 
quite  right,  too  ;  for,  after  all,  no  doubt  each  of 
us  earns  a  good  penny  for  him  over  and  above 
what  he  pays  us,  else  why  should  he  keep  us 
on?  but,  somehow,  one  can't  help  thanking  any 
one  who  pays  one  money  ;  at  least,  I  can't. 

"  Now,  as  to  your  holiday,"  went  on  our  gov- 
ernor. "  There's  Jobson  went  for  his  fortnight 
on  the  30th  ;  he'll  be  back  on  the  14th  of  Sep- 
tember, at  latest.  You  can  take  any  time  you 
like,  after  that." 

"  Then,  Sir,"  said  I  directly,  "  I  should  like 
it  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Very  well,"  said  he  ;  "  Tuesday  the  16th  to 
Tuesday  the  29th  of  September,  both  inclu- 
sive ;  "  and  he  made  a  note  in  another  book 


4  THE   SCOURING   OF 

which  lay  on  his  desk.  "  Good  evening, 
Richard." 

"  Good  evening,  Sir,"  said  I ;  and  away  I 
went  down  to  our  room  in  as  good  spirits  as 
any  young  fellow  in  our  quarter  of  London. 

Of  course  all  the  other  clerks  began  shouting 
out  at  once  to  know  how  much  money  I'd  got, 
and  when  I  was  going  to  have  my  holiday. 
Well,  I  didn't  tell  them  what  money  I  had,  any 
more  than  I've  told  you,  because  1  like  to  keep 
my  own  counsel  about  such  matters.  Besides, 
there  are  several  of  our  clerks  whose  ways  I 
don't  at  all  like ;  so  I  don't  do  any  thing  I  can 
help  which  might  look  as  if  I  liked  them.  No ! 
hands  off,  is  my  motto  with  these  sort  of  chaps. 

I'm  sure  there's  no  pride  about  me,  though. 
My  name's  Easy,  and  always  was  ;  and  I  like 
every  fellow,  whatever  his  coat  is,  who  isn't 
always  thinking  about  the  cut  of  it,  or  what  he 
has  in  the  pocket  of  it.  But,  goodness  knows, 
I  can't  stand  a  fellow  who  gives  himself  airs, 
and  thinks  himself  a  chalk  above  everybody 
who  can't  dress  and  do  just  as  he  can.  Those 
chaps,  I  always  see,  are  just  the  ones  to  do  lick- 
spittle to  those  that  they  think  have  more  in 
their  pockets  than  themselves. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  5 

But  I  must  get  on  with  my  story,  for  you 
don't  ail  want  to  know  my  opinions  about  the 
clerks  in  our  office,  I  dare  say. 

Well,  when  I  got  down,  as  I  said  before,  we 
were  all  just  on  the  move,  (business  hours  being 
from  nine  till  six  in  our  office,)  taking  down 
coats  and  hats,  and  clearing  desks  for  the  night, 
so  I  just  sidled  up  to  Jem  Fisher,  and  little 
Neddy  Baily,  who  are  the  two  I  like  best,  and 
told  them  to  come  up  to  my  room  to  supper  at 
eight  o'clock,  which  they  of  course  were  very 
glad  to  promise  to  do,  and  then  I  went  off  to 
get  ready  for  them. 

Jem  Fisher  and  I  are  very  fond  of  a  dish 
wThich  I  believe  very  few  of  you  ever  heard  of. 
One  Sunday  in  May,  a  year  or  two  back,  he 
and  I  had  been  down  beyond  Netting  Hill, 
listening  to  the  nightingales  ;  and  coming  back, 
we  walked  through  Kensington  Gardens,  and 
came  out  at  the  gate  into  the  Netting  Hill 
Road,  close  to  Hyde  Park.  We  were  late,  for 
us,  so  we  hailed  a  'bus,  and  got  on  the  box. 
The  driver  was  full  of  talk  about  all  the  fine 
people  he  had  been  seeing  walking  in  the  gar- 
dens that  afternoon,  and  seemed  to  think  it  hard 
he  couldn't  enjoy  himself  just  as  they  did. 


6  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"  However,  gentlemen,"  said  he  at  last,  "  there's 
some  things  as  the  haristocracy  ain't  alive  to. 
Did  you  ever  eat  cow-heel  ? "  Perhaps  Jem, 
who  had  all  his  best  clothes  on,  didn't  mind 
being  taken  for  one  of  the  aristocracy ;  at  least 
just  for  a  minute,  for  he's  too  good  a  fellow  to 
like  being  taken  for  anybody  but  himself  when 
he  comes  to  think  of  it ;  at  any  rate,  he  and  I 
took  to  eating  cow-heel  from  that  time.  So  the 
first  thing  I  did,  after  going  home  and  locking 
up  most  of  my  money,  and  speaking  to  my 
landlady,  who  is  the  best  old  soul  alive  if  you 
take  her  in  her  own  way,  was,  to  set  off  to 
Clare  Market,  and  buy  some  cow-heel  and  sau- 
sages ;  and  <_  '  my  way  back  through  the  Turn- 
stile, I  thought,  as  it  was  so  hot,  I  would  have 
some  fruit  too ;  so  I  bought  a  pottle  of  plums 
and  a  piece  of  a  pine-apple,  and  got  home. 

They  came  in  sharp  to  time,  and  I  and  my 
landlady  had  every  thing  ready,  and  two  foam- 
ing pewter  pots  full  of  bitter  beer  and  porter. 
So  we  had  a  capital  supper,  and  then  cleared 
it  all  away,  and  sat  down  to  eat  the  fruit  and 
have  a  quiet  pipe  by  the  time  it  began  to  get 
dark. 

"And  so,"  said  little  Neddy,  (he  is  onlv  iust 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  7 

eighteen,  and  hasn't  been  in  our  office  a  year 
yet ;  but  he's  such  a  clever,  industrious  little 
chap,  that  he  has  gone  over  the  heads  of  half 
a  dozen  of  our  youngsters,  and  hasn't  stopped 
yet  by  a  long  way,)  "  you're  off  on  the  15th ! 
wish  I  was.  Well,  here's  luck  any  how,"  said 
he,  nodding  to  me,  and  taking  a  bite  out  of  a 
slice  of  pine-apple. 

"  Gentle  Shepherd,  tell  me  where  ?  "  said  Jem 
Fisher.  (Jem  is  very  fond  of  quoting  poetry ; 
not  that  I  think  half  that  he  quotes  is  real 
poetry,  only  how  is  one  to  find  him  out  ?  Jem 
is  a  tall,  good-looking  fellow,  as  old  as  I  am, 
and  that's  twenty-one  last  birthday ;  we  came 
into  the  office  together  years  ago,  and  have 
been  very  thick  ever  since,  which  I  sometimes 
wonder  at,  for  Jem  is  a  bit  of  a  swell — Gentle- 
man Jem  they  call  him  in  the  office.)  "  Now, 
Dick,  where  are  you  bound  for  ?  " 

"  Well,  that's  more  than  I  know  myself," 
said  I. 

"  Then,"  said  he,  taking  his  pipe  out  of  his 
pocket  and  filling  it,  "  I  vote  we  settle  for  him, 
eh,  Neddy?" 

"Aye,  aye,  Sir,"  said  Neddy,  stretching  over 
for  the  pottle ;  "  but,  I  say,  Jem,  you  haven't 


8  THE   SCOURING   OF 

finished  all  those  plums  ? "  and  he  poked 
about  in  the  leaves  with  his  fingers. 

"  Every  mother's  son  of  them,"  said  Jem, 
lighting  a  lucifer ;  "  if  you  come  to  that,  Mas- 
ter Ned,  hand  me  over  some  of  that  pine- 
apple. But  now,  about  the  tour ;  how  much 
money  are  you  going  to  spend  on  it,  Dick  ?  " 

"Well,  I  haven't  quite  settled,"  said  I;  «but 
I  shouldn't  mind,  now,  going  as  high  as  four 
or  five  pounds,  if  I  can  suit  myself." 

"  You  may  go  pretty  near  to  Jericho  for  that 
now-a-days,"  said  Neddy.  "As  I  came  along 
Holborn  to-night,  I  saw  a  great  placard  out- 
side the  George  and  Blue  Boar,  with  '  to  Llan- 
gollen and  back  15s.'  on  it.  What  do  you 
think  of  that?  You'll  be  turned  out  at  the 
station  there  with  £4  5s.  in  your  pocket." 

"  Where's  Llangollen  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Not  half-way  to  Jericho,"  shouted  Jem,  with 
a  laugh.  "  Where's  Llangollen  ?  Why  didn't 
you  ever  hear  the  song  of  Kitty  Morgan,  the 
maid  of  Llangollen  ?  You're  a  pretty  fellow 
to  go  touring." 

"  Yes,  fifty  times,"  said  I ;  "  only  the  song 
don't  tell  you  where  the  place  is — where  is  it 
now  ?  " 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  9 

"  In  Wales,  of  course,"  said  he,  thinking  he 
had  me. 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  ;  but  whereabouts  in 
Wales,"  said  I,  "  for  Wales  is  a  biggish  place. 
Is  it  near  any  thing  one  reads  about  in  books, 
and  ought  to  go  and  see  ?  " 

"  Hanged  if  I  know  exactly,"  said  Jem,  puf- 
fing away ;  "  only  of  course  Wales  is  worth 
seeing." 

"  So  is  France,"  struck  in  Neddy ;  "  why,  you 
may  go  to  Paris  and  stay  a  fortnight  for  I  don't 
know  how  little." 

"Aye,  or  to  Edinburgh  or  the  Lakes,"  said 
Jem. 

"  I  want  to  have  the  particulars  though," 
said  I ;  "  I'm  not  going  to  start  off  to  some 
foreign  place,  and  find  myself  with  no  money 
to  spend  and  enjoy  myself  with,  when  I  get 
there." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Neddy,  jumping 
up,  "  I'll  just  run  round  to  the  Working  Men's 
College,  and  borrow  a  Bradshaw  from  the  secre- 
tary. We  shall  find  all  the  cheap  excursions 
there ; "  and  away  he  went  before  we  could  say 
a  word. 

"  I  say,"   said  Jem  to  me,  "  how  fond  he  is 


10  THE   SCOUEING   OF 

of  bringing  up  that  place ;  he's  always  at  me 
to  go  and  enter  there." 

"  So  he  is  at  me,"  said  I,  "and  I  think  I  shall, 
for  he  seems  to  pick  up  a  lot  of  things  there. 
How  sharp  he  is  at  figures !  and  he  knows 
more  history  and  geography  ten  to  one  than  I 
do.  I'll  bet  he  knew  what  county  Llangollen 
is  in,  and  something  about  it  too.  Let's  ask 
him  when  he  comes  back." 

"  Catch  me ! "  said  Jem  ;  "  he'll  look  it  out 
on  the  map  on  his  way  back,  or  ask  one  of 
the  lecturers." 

"  Here  you  are  !  look  here !  "  said  Neddy, 
tumbling  in  with  two  Bradshaws  and  a  great 
atlas  under  his  arm ;  "  '  unprecedented  attrac- 
tion, pleasure  excursions,'  let  me  see — Return 
tickets  for  Ireland,  available  for  a  fortnight. 
Waterford,  II  16s. ;  Cork,  2l» 

"  Nonsense ! "  cried  Jem,  who  had  got  the 
other  Bradshaw ;  "  listen  here :  '  Channel  Is- 
lands, (remarkable  as  being  the  only  remaining 
Norman  possessions  of  the  British  crown.)  sec- 
ond class  and  fore  cabin,  21s." 

"  '  London  to  Dieppe,  return  tickets  available 
for  fourteen  days,  second  class,  21s.,'  "  sung  out 
Ned,  from  the  other  Bradshaw. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  11 

And  away  they  went,  with  Brussels,  and 
Bangor,  and  the  Manchester  Exhibition,  and 
Plymouth  and  Glasgow,  and  the  Isle  of  Man, 
and  Margate  and  Ramsgate,  and  the  Isle  of 
Wight;  and  then  to  Gibraltar  and  Malta  and 
New  York,  and  all  over  the  world.  I  sat  and 
smoked  my  pipe,  for  'twas  no  use  trying  to  set- 
tle any  thing ;  but  presently,  when  they  got 
tired,  we  set  to  work  and  began  to  put  down 
the  figures.  However,  that  wasn't  much  better, 
for  there  were  such  a  lot  of  tours  to  go;  and  one 
was  a  bit  too  short,  and  the  other  too  long,  and 
this  cost  too  much,  and  that  too  little  ;  so  all  the 
beer  was  gone,  and  we  were  no  nearer  settling 
any  thing  when  eleven  o'clock  struck. 

"  Well,"  said  Jem,  getting  up  and  knocking 
the  ashes  out  of  his  third  pipe,  "  I  declare  it's 
almost  as  good  as  going  a  tour  one's  self,  set- 
tling it  for  Dick  here." 

"  I  just  wish  you  had  settled  it,"  said  I ;  "  I'm 
more  puzzled  than  when  we  began." 

"  Heigh-ho,  fellows  never  know  when  they're 
well  off,"  said  Neddy;  "now  I  never  get  a 
chance.  In  my  holiday  I  just  go  down  to  the 
old  folk  at  Romford,  and  there  I  stick." 

"  They  don't   indeed,"  said  I ;  "  I  wonder  to 


12  THE   SCOURING   OF 

hear  you  talk  like  that,  Ned.  Some  folks  would 
give  all  they're  worth  to  have  old  folk  to  go  to." 

"  Well,  I  didn't  mean  it,"  said  he,  looking 
hurt.  And  I  don't  believe  he  did,  for  a  kinder 
hearted  fellow  don't  live ;  and  I  was  half  sorry  I 
had  said  what  I  did  say. 

"  Further  deliberation  will  be  necessary,"  said 
Jem,  lighting  his  fourth  pipe;  "we'll  come  again 
to-morrow  night ;  your  bacchy's  nearly  out, 
Dick ;  lay  in  some  bird's  eye  for  to-morrow ; 
real  Bristol,  do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Time  to  go,  I  suppose,"  said  Ned,  getting 
up  and  gathering  the  Bradshaws  and  atlas 
together ;  "  are  we  to  come  again  to-morrow, 
Dick  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,  didst  thou  say  ?  methought  I 
heard  Horatio  say  to-morrow.  Go  to ;  it  is  a 
thing  of  naught,"  and  Jem  clapped  on  his  hat 
and  began  ranting  in  his  way;  so  I  broke 
in — 

"  I  wish  you'd  hold  that  noise,  and  talk 
sense,"  said  I. 

"  Shakspeare !  "  said  Jem,  stopping  short  and 
pulling  up  his  collar. 

"  Gammon ! "     said     Neddy,     bursting     out 


THE  WHITE   HOESE.  13 

«  That's  right,  Neddy,"  said  I ;  "  he's  always 
going  off  with  some  of  his  nonsense,  and  call- 
ing it  poetry." 

"  I  didn't  say  it  was  poetry,  did  I  ? "  said 
Jem. 

«  What  is  it  then  ?  "    said  I. 

"  Blank  verse,"  said  he. 

"  What's  the  difference  ?  "    said  I. 

"  Go  up  the  mill-dam,  fall  down  slam,  dat 
poetry;  go  up  the  mill-dam,  fall  down  whop- 
po',  dat  plank  verse,"  said  he.  "  Go  along 
nigger — had  him  dere,  nigger,"  and  he  turned 
in  his  knees  and  grinned,  like  one  of  those 
poor  beggars  who  black  their  faces  and  go 
about  the  streets  with  red  striped  trowsers, 
white  ties,  and  banjos. 

"  You  ought  to  be  a  nigger  yourself,  Jem," 
said  I,  "  and  I  should  just  like  to  have  the 
driving  of  you.  There,  tumble  out  with  you; 
it's  time  for  steady  folks  to  turn  in." 

So  I  turned  them  out  and  held  the  candle, 
while  they  floundered  down  stairs,  that  wretch, 
Jem,  singing,  "  There's  some  'un  in  de  house 
wid  Dinah,"  loud  enough  to  be  heard  at  the 
Foundling.  I  was  glad  to  hear  my  landlady 
catch  him  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  and 


14  THE   SCOURING   OF 

give  it  him  well  about  "  a  respectable  house," 
and  "  what  she  was  used  to  with  her  gents," 
while  she  opened  the  door ;  only  I  don't  see 
what  right  she  had  to  give  it  me  all  over 
again  next  morning  at  breakfast,  and  call  Jem 
Fisher  a  wild  young  man,  and  bad  company, 
because  that's  just  what  he  isn't,  only  a  little 
noisy  sometimes.  And  as  if  I'm  not  to  have 
who  I  please  up  to  my  room  without  her  in- 
terfering! I  pay  my  rent  regular  every  month, 
I  know.  However,  I  didn't  mind  much  what 
she  said  at  breakfast  time,  because  I  had  got 
a  letter  from  the  country.  I  don't  get  a  let- 
ter once  a  month,  and  it's  very  odd  this  one 
should  have  come  on  this  very  morning,  when  I 
was  puzzling  where  to  go  for  my  holiday ;  and 
I  dare  say  you'll  think  so  too,  when  I  tell  you 
what  it  was  about.  Let's  see — here  it  is  in 
my  pocket,  so  you  shall  have  it  whole: — 

"  Elm  Close  Farm,  Berks,  August  31, 1857. 

"  DEAR  DICK, — You  know  you  owe  me  a 
visit,  for  you've  never  been  down  here,  often 
as  I've  asked  you,  since  we  was  at  school  to- 
gether— and  I  have  been  up  to  you  four  or 
five  times.  Now,  why  I  particularly  want  you 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  15 

to  come  this  month  is,  because  we've  got  some 
sport  to  show  you  down  in  these  quiet  parts, 
which  don't  happen  every  day.  You  see  there's 
an  old  White  Horse  cut  out  in  the  side  of  the 
highest  hill  hereabouts,  (a  regular  break-neck 
place  it  is,  and  there  aint  three  men  in  the 
country  as  '11  ride  along  the  hill-side  under  the 
Horse,)  and  many  folks  sets  a  good  deal  of 
store  by  it,  and  seems  to  think  the  world  'd 
come  to  an  end  if  the  horse  wasn't  kept  all 
straight.  May  be  I'm  a  bit  of  that  mind  my- 
self— anyhow  you'll  see  by  the  paper  inside 
what's  going  on ;  and  being  a  scholar,  may 
be  you'll  know  about  the  White  Horse,  and 
like  to  come  down  to  a  scouring.  And  I  can 
tell  you  it  will  be  good  fun ;  for  I  remember 
the  last,  when  I  was  quite  a  little  chap,  before 
I  went  to  school,  and  I've  never  seen  such 
games  since.  You've  only  got  to  write  and 
say  what  train  you'll  come  by,  and  I'll  meet 
you  at  the  Farringdon-road  station  in  my  trap. 
So,  as  I  aint  much  of  a  penman,  excuse  mis- 
takes, and  remember  me  to  Fisher  and  the 
others  I  met  at  your  place ;  and  no  more  at 
present  from  yours  truly. 

"JOSEPH  HURST. 


16  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"  P.  S. — You  must  stay  as  long  as  you  can, 
and  I'll  mount  you  on  my  young  bay  colt  to 
see  a  cub  killed." 

I  shouldn't  print  Joe's  letter  whole,  (and  as 
it  is  I've  put  a  good  deal  of  the  spelling  right,) 
only  I'm  quite  sure  he'U  never  read  this  book, 
and  I  hope  it  may  serve  as  a  warning  to  young 
fellows  to  keep  up  their  learning  when  they 
go  and  settle  down  in  the  country.  For  when 
Joe  left  the  Commercial  Academy  at  Brentford, 
he  could  write  just  as  good  English  as  I,  and 
if  he  had  put  "  many  folks  seems  to  think,"  or 
"you've  only  got  to  write,"  in  a  theme,  old 
Hopkins  would  have  given  him  a  good  caning. 
But  nothing  wears  out  learning  so  quick  as 
living  in  the  country  and  farming,  and  Joe 
came  into  his  farm  when  he  was  nineteen,  and 
has  been  at  it  ever  since.  And  after  all,  per- 
haps, it  doesn't  much  signify,  because  nobody 
makes  himself  better  understood  than  Joe,  in 
one  way  or  another;  and  if  he  wasn't  a  little 
behindhand  in  his  grammar,  he  wouldn't  think 
much  of  me  perhaps — and  one  don't  mind  be- 
ing taken  for  a  scholar,  even  by  those  who  are 
not  the  best  judges  in  the  world. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  17 

Well,  thinks  I  to  myself,  as  I  finished  my 
breakfast,  this  seems  like  business.  If  I  go 
down  to  Joe's,  and  stay  there  all  my  holiday, 
the  fares  will  be  only  seventeen  shillings ;  and, 
say  a  pound  for  expenses  down  there ;  one 
pound  seventeen  shillings,  say  two  pounds  in 
all.  I  shall  put  three  pounds  into  my  pocket, 
and  please  an  old  friend,  which  will  be  much 
better  than  any  thing  Jem  Fisher  and  little 
Neddy  Baily  will  hit  out  for  me  in  a  week 
from  the  end  of  Bradshaw.  Besides,  it  will 
look  well  to  be  able  to  talk  of  going  to  a 
friend  in  Berkshire.  I'll  write  to  Joe,  and  say 
I'll  be  with  him  in  good  time  on  the  15th. 

So  I  went  down  to  the  office  and  told  Jem 
Fisher  and  little  Neddy,  that  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  go  and  see  my  old  friend  Joe, 
in  Berkshire,  before  they  had  had  time  to  get 
their  office  coats  on. 

"  What  ?  that  jolly  fellow  with  the  brown 
face  and  red  whiskers,"  said  Jem,  "  who  came 
up  and  slept  in  your  room  last  Christmas  cattle- 
show,  and  wanted  to  fight  the  cabman  for  a 
gallon  of  beer,  who  charged  him  half-a-crown 
from  Baker  Street  to  Gray's  Inn  Lane  ? " 

"  Yes,"    said  I,   « that's  the  man." 


18  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"  I  remember  him  well,"  said  Neddy ;  "  and 
I'm  sure  you'll  have  a  good  time  of  it  if  you 
go  to  see  him.  But,  I  say,  how  about  supper 
to-night  ?  You  won't  want  us  and  the  Brad- 
shaws  any  more,  eh  ?  " 

lt  Oh,  he  isn't  going  to  get  out  of  it  like 
that,"  said  Jem,  as  he  settled  to  his  desk,  and 
got  his  work  out.  "  I  say,  Dick,  you're  not 
going  to  be  off  now,  are  you  ?  I  know  bet- 
ter." 

"  I  never  was  on  that  I  know  of,"  said  I ; 
"  however,  I  don't  mind  standing  supper  at  the 
Cheshire  Cheese ;  but  I  won't  have  you  fel- 
lows up  in  my  room  again  to-night,  kicking 
up  a  row  on  the  stairs.  No!  just  catch  me 
at  it ! " 

So  I  gave  them  a  supper  that  night,  and 
another  the  night  after  I  came  back  from  my 
holiday. 

They  seemed  just  the  same,  but  how  differ- 
ent I  felt.  Only  two  short  weeks  had  passed, 
but  I  was  as  much  changed  as  if  it  had  been 
ten  years.  I  had  found  something  which  I 
never  could  get  rid  of,  day  or  night,  and  which 
kept  me  always  in  a  fret  and  a  struggle.  What 
a  life  I  led  with  it!  Sometimes  it  cast  me 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  19 

down  and  made  me  ready  to  hang  myself ;  and 
then,  again,  it  would  lift  me  up,  and  seem  to 
fill  me  with  warmth  and  sunshine.  But,  some- 
how, even  when  I  was  at  the  worst,  if  an  en- 
chanter had  come  and  offered  to  wipe  it  all  out, 
and  to  put  me  back  just  where  I  was  the  night 
before  my  holiday,  I  should  have  said  "  No ; " 
and  at  all  other  times  I  felt  that  it  was  the  most 
precious  part  of  my  life.  What  was  it  ?  Ah, 
what  was  it  ?  Some  of  you  will  smile,  and 
some  of  you  will  sneer,  when  you  find  out,  as 
you  will  (if  you  don't  skip)  before  you  get  to 
the  end  of  my  story.  And  I  can't  see  the  least 
reason  why  I  should  help  you  to  it  a  minute 
sodner. 


20  THE  SCOUKING  OF 


CHAPTER   n. 

Now  I  do  pity  all  the  lords  and  great  gentle- 
folk with  nothing  in  the  world  to  do  except  to 
find  out  how  to  make  things  pleasant,  and  new 
places  to  go  to,  and  new  ways  of  spending  their 
money ;  at  least,  I  always  pity  them  at  the  be- 
ginning of  my  holiday,  though  perhaps  when 
one  first  comes  back  to  eleven  months'  hard 
grind  in  town  the  feeling  isn't  quite  so  strong. 

At  any  rate,  I  wouldn't  have  changed  places 
with  the  greatest  lord  in  the  land  on  Tuesday 
morning,  September  15th.  I  was  up  as  soon  as 
it  was  light,  and  saw  the  sun  rise  over  the 
Gray's  Inn  Lane  chimney-pots ;  and  I  declare 
they  looked  quite  beautiful.  I  didn't  know  at 
all  before  what  a  fine  outline  they  make  when 
the  rays  come  flat  along  the  roofs ;  and  mean 
often  to  get  up  in  time  to  see  them  by  sunrise 
next  summer;  but  just  now  it's  very  cold"  of 
mornings,  and  I  dare  say  they  don't  look  so 


THE    WHITE   HORSE.  21 

well.  When  I  put  my  head  out  of  window  it 
was  quite  clear  and  fresh,  and  I  thought  I  could 
smell  the  country. 

I  hadn't  much  to  do,  for  I  had  packed  my 
bag  over  night;  but  I  went  over  all  my  things 
again,  and  changed  the  places  of  some  of  them 
in  my  old  bureau,  (which  belonged  to  my 
father,  who  was  clerk  for  forty  years  in  one  of 
the  oldest  houses  in  Clement's  Inn,)  and  locked 
up  all  the  drawers;  and  then  I  set  to  work  to 
lay  breakfast  for  three,  for  I  had  asked  my  two 
friends  to  come  and  see  me  off,  and  they  had 
made  it  all  up  with  my  landlady.  So  about  six 
o'clock  they  came  in,  and  we  had  a  capital 
breakfast ;  and  then  we  started  off  to  walk  up 
to  the  Paddington  station,  carrying  my  bag 
between  us.  I  had  settled  to  go  by  the  7.30 
train,  because  if  I  hadn't  they  couldn't  have 
come  with  me;  besides,  it  is  the  first  train 
which  stops  at  Farringdon-road ;  and  I  was 
very  glad  when  we  got  into  the  bustle  of  the 
station,  for  they  were  rather  low,  and  I  felt  al- 
most ashamed  of  being  so  jolly,  though  cer- 
tainly they  had  had  their  holiday  earlier  in  the 
year.  But  when  I  saw  their  faces  out  of  the 
window  of  the  second-class  carriage,  just  as  the 


22  THE  SCOURING   OF 

starting-bell  rang,  I  should  like  to  have  paid 
their  fares  out  of  my  own  pocket,  if  they  could 
have  gone  with  me. 

However,  by  the  time  we  got  past  Worm- 
wood Scrubbs,  (which  looked  so  fresh  and  breezy 
with  the  gossamer  lying  all  over  it,)  I  could 
think  of  nothing  else  but  the  country  and  my 
holiday.  How  I  did  enjoy  the  pretty  hill  with 
the  church  at  top  and  the  stream  at  the  bottom 
by  Hanwell,  and  the  great  old  trees  about  half 
a  mile  off  on  the  right  before  you  get  to  Slough, 
and  the  view  of  Windsor  Castle,  and  crossing 
the  Thames  at  Maidenhead,  with  its  splendid 
weeping  willows,  and  the  old  Bath-road  bridge, 
and  the  reach  beyond  with  the  woods  coming 
down  to  the  bank,  and  the  great  lords'  houses 
up  above.  And  then  all  the  corn-fields,  though 
by  this  time  most  of  them  were  only  stubble, 
and  Reading  town,  and  the  great  lasher  at 
Pangbourn,  where  the  water  was  rushing  and 
dancing  through  in  the  sunlight  to  welcome  me 
into  Berkshire ;  and  the  great  stretches  of  open 
land  about  Wallingford-road  and  Didcot.  And 
after  that  came  great  green  pasture-fields,  and 
orchards,  and  gray-stone  farm-houses,  and  before 
I  could  turn  round  we  were  at  Farringdon-road 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  23 

station,  and  it  was  a  quarter  past  eleven.  As  I 
got  out  and  gave  up  my  ticket,  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  of  the  two  lines  Jem  Fisher  would  go 
on  saying  when  we  went  out  walking  in  Combe 
Wood  and  Richmond  Park  one  Sunday  this 
last  May — 

How  beautiful  the  country  do  appear 
At  this  time  of  the  year. 

I  know  he  was  laughing,  and  made  them  out 
of  his  own  head,  though  he  declared  they  were 
in  Chaucer ;  but  they  are  just  as  true  for  all 
that,  whether  Jem  Fisher  or  Chaucer  made 
them,  though  the  English  isn't  as  good  as  the 
sense. 

There  I  found  Joe  waiting  for  me,  with  his 
trap,  as  he  called  it,  at  the  door,  and  the  inn 
ostler  standing  by  the  head  of  the  horse,  which 
was  a  bright  chestnut,  and  looked  very  fine.  I 
own  I  very  much  enjoyed  going  off  in  that 
dark-green  high-wheeled  carriage. 

"  In  with  you,  Dick,"  cried  out  Joe,  as  he 
took  hold  of  the  reins,  and  patted  the  horse  on 
the  neck.  "  There,  shoot  your  bag  in  behind ; 
look  alive,  she  don't  stand  well.  That'll  do," 
he  shouted  to  the  ostler,  who  jumped  back  and 


24  THE    SCOURING  OF 

touched  his  hat  just  as  if  Joe  owned  half  the 
parish.  If  the  horse  couldn't  stand  well,  at  any 
rate  she  could  step  out,  and  away  we  whirled 
down  the  white  road ;  Joe  red  in  the  face  with 
holding  on,  his  feet  well  out  to  the  splash-board, 
his  chest  thrown  forward,  and  his  elbows  down 
at  his  side,  hauling  the  chestnut's  head  right 
back,  till  her  nose  nearly  touched  the  collar. 
But  for  all  that,  away  went  her  legs  right 
straight  out  in  front,  shooting  along  so  fast 
that  I  began  to  feel  queer,  not  being  used  to 
horses,  and  took  tight  hold  of  the  seat  with  my 
left  hand,  so  that  Joe  shouldn't  see  ;  for  the  cart 
jumped  sometimes  enough  to  pitch  you  out. 

"  Gently  there,  gently,  my  beauty,"  said  Joe, 
as  the  chestnut  dropped  into  a  little  quieter  pace. 
"  There,  now,  ain't  she  a  pictur'  ?  "  said  he  to 
me ; — "  ever  see  a  mare  lay  down  to  her  work 
like  that  ?  Gently,  my  beauty !  if  it  wasn't  for 
the  blaze  in  her  face,  and  the  white  feet,  the 
Squir'd  give  me  one  hundred  pounds  for  her 
to-morrow.  And  I  won't  sell  her  under.  It's  a 
mortal  shame  to  drive  her.  Her  mouth's  like 
a  kitten's."  How  Joe  could  talk  so,  when  he 
was  pulling  fit  to  burst  himself  at  the  reins,  I 
don't  know ;  I  thought  once  or  twice  where  we 


THE  WHITE   HORSE.  25 

should  go  to  if  one  broke,  but  I  didn't  say  any 
thing.  I  found  out  afterwards  that  Joe  meant 
a  great  white  mark,  when  he  talked  of  the  blaze 
in  her  face.  I  suppose  men  can't  see  any  faults 
in  their  own  horses,  any  more  than  they  can  in 
their  children. 

After  a  bit,  the  pace  got  quite  steady,  and 
then  I  began  to  enjoy  myself,  and  could  look  at 
the  famous  rich  fields,  and  the  high  hedges  full 
of  great  heavy  masses  of  clematis,  and  sniff 
up  all  the  country  smells,  as  we  whirled  along, 
and  listen  to  Joe,  who  was  going  grinding  on 
about,  '  how  badly  the  parish  roads  were  kept 
up ;  and  that  he  had  set  his  mind  to  have  them 
well  mended  with  flints  instead  of  chalk,  and 
to  have  all  the  thistles  at  the  side  kept  down, 
which  were  sowing  the  whole  country  round, 
because  their  vestry  was  so  stingy  they  wouldn't 
put  any  men  on  the  road  to  set  it  right,'  and  I 
could  see  that  Joe  was  in  the  middle  of  a  good 
quarrel  with  all  the  other  farmers  about  it. 

When  he  had  done  his  story,  I  asked  him 
about  the  White  Horse,  and  he  pointed  me  out 
the  highest  of  the  hills  which  ran  along  on  our 
left  hand  a  mile  or  two  away.  There,  sure 
enough,  I  saw  the  figure  quite  plain ;  but  he 

2 


26  THE   SCOURING   OF 

didn't  know  much  about  it.  Only,  he  said,  he 
had  always  heard  tell  that  it  was  cut  out  by 
King  Alfred  the  Great,  who  lived  in  those  parts ; 
and  'there  was  a  main  sight  of  strange  old 
things  up  there  on  the  hill,  besides  the  White 
Horse ;  and  though  he  didn't  know  much  about 
how  they  got  there,  he  was  sort  of  proud  of 
them,  and  was  glad  to  pay  his  pound  or  two, 
or  double  that  if  it  was  wanted,  to  keep  them 
as  they  should  be ; '  "  for,  you  see,"  said  Joe, 
"  we've  lived  about  here,  father  and  son,  pretty 
nigh  ever  since  King  Alfred's  time,  which  I 
reckon  is  a  smartish  time  ago,  though  I  forget 
how  long."  And  though  I  think  Joe,  and  par- 
ties in  the  counties  generally,  set  too  much 
store  by  such  things,  and  hold  their  noses  much 
higher  than  they've  any  need  to  do,  because 
their  families  have  never  cared  to  move  about, 
and  push  on  in  the  world,  and  so  they  know 
where  their  great-grandfathers  were  born,  1 
couldn't  help  feeling  there  was  something  in 
it  after  all. 

And  the  more  I  thought  of  this  strange  old 
White  Horse,  the  more  it  took  hold  of  me,  and 
I  resolved,  if  I  could,  while  I  was  down  in  the 
country  to  learn  all  about  it.  I  knew,  you  see, 


THE  WHITE   HORSE.  27 

that  if  I  could  only  get  people  to  tell  me  about 
it,  I  should  be  able  to  carry  it  all  away ;  be- 
cause, besides  having  a  very  good  memory,  I 
can  take  down  every  thing  that  is  said  as  fast 
as  most  people  can  speak  it,  and  that's  what 
gives  me  such  an  advantage  over  Jem  Fisher 
and  Neddy,  who  spent  all  the  time  it  took  me 
to  learn  shorthand  in  reading  poetry  and  other 
rubbish,  which  will  never  help  to  get  them  on 
in  the  world,  or  do  them  a  bit  of  good  that  I 
can  see. 

Presently  we  came  in  sight  of  a  house  with 
farm  buildings  behind,  which  stood  some  way 
back  from  the  road ;  and  Joe  pulled  up  oppo- 
site a  gate  which  led  into  the  field  before  the 
house. 

"  Here  we  are,  then,"  said  he ;  "just  jump  out, 
and  open  the  gate,  Dick ;  I'd  do  it,  only  I  can't 
trust  you  with  the  ribbons." 

It  was  a  beautiful  great  green  pasture-field 
which  we  drove  into,  with  a  score  of  fat  sleek 
cows  feeding  in  it,  or  lying  about  chewing  the 
cud;  and  Joe  was  very  proud  of  them,  and 
walked  the  chestnut  along  slowly  while  he 
pointed  out  his  favourites  to  me,  especially  one 
short-horn,  whose  back  he  said  was  like  a 


28  THE  SCOURING  OF 

kitchen-table,  though  why  she  should  be  any 
the  handsomer  for  that  I  can't  say.  The  house 
was  an  old  brick  building,  with  tall  chimneys 
and  latticed  windows  ;  in  front  of  it  was  a  nice 
little  flower-garden,  with  a  tall,  clipped  holly 
hedge  running  round  it,  so  thick  that  you 
couldn't  see  through  ;  and  beyond  that,  a  kitch- 
en garden  and  an  orchard.  Outside  the  enclo- 
sure stood  four  such  elms  as  I  never  saw  before, 
and  a  walnut-tree  nearly  as  big  as  they,  with 
queer  great  branches  drooping  close  to  the 
ground,  on  which  some  turkeys  were  sitting. 
There  was  only  a  little  wicket-gate  in  the  holly 
hedge,  and  a  gravel  footpath  up  to  the  front 
door,  so  we  drove  into  the  farm-yard  at  the 
back ;  and  while  Joe  and  his  man  took  care  of 
the  chestnut,  I  had  time  to  look  about,  and 
think  what  a  snug  berth  Joe  seemed  to  have 
fallen  upon. 

The  yard  must  be  sixty  yards  across,  and 
was  full  of  straw  where  the  pigs  were  lying 
with  nothing  but  their  snouts  oat;  lots  of  poul- 
try were  scratching  and  pecking  about  before 
the  barn-doors,  and  pigeons  were  fluttering 
down  amongst  them,  and  then  up  again  to 
the  tops  of  the  barns  and  stables,  which  ran 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  29 

all  round  the  yard.  The  rick-yard,  full  of  long 
stacks  of  hay,  and  round  stacks  of  corn,  was 
beyond.  A  terrier  and  spaniel  were  sleeping  in 
sunny  corners,  and  a  grayhound  was  stalking 
about  and  looking  at  the  pigs ;  and  every  thing 
looked  sleepy  and  happy,  and  as  if  life  went 
easily  along  at  Elm  Close  Farm. 

Presently  Joe  came  out  of  the  stable,  carrying 
his  whip,  and  took  me  into  the  house,  calling 
into  the  kitchen  as  we  passed  to  send  in  dinner 
directly.  There  was  nobody  in  the  parlour  at 
first,  but  I  saw  that  the  table  was  laid  for  three  ; 
and,  before  I  could  look  round  at  the  prints  and 
samples  on  the  wall,  Joe's  mother  and  the  din- 
ner came  in.  She  was  a  good-looking  old  lady, 
dressed  in  black,  with  a  very  white  lawn  cap 
and  collar,  and  was  very  kind  and  civil,  but  a 
little  deaf.  Joe  bustled  about,  and  got  out  T 
don't  know  how  many  bottles  of  home-made 
wine,  clary,  and  raisin,  and  ginger ;  all  of  which 
he  made  me  drink,  besides  beer,  for  he  said  that 
no  one  in  the  vale  had  such  receipts  for  wine  as 
his  mother.  And  what  with  the  dairy-fed  pork, 
and  black  puddings,  and  a  chicken  almost  as 
big  as  a  turkey,  and  the  cheese-cakes  and  tarts 
afterwards,  and  the  hearty  welcome  and  good 


30  THE   SCOURING  OF 

example  which  Joe  gave  me,  I  don't  remember 
when  I  have  made  so  good  a  dinner. 

The  old  lady  went  off  directly  after  dinner, 
and  I  could  see  that  Joe  wanted  to  go  and  see 
after  his  men ;  so  I  told  him  not  to  mind  me, 
for  I  should  enjoy  loitering  about  the  place  bet- 
ter than  any  thing.  And  so  I  did  ;  first  I  went 
into  the  flower-garden,  and  watched  and  lis- 
tened to  the  bees  working  away  so  busy  in  the 
mignonette,  and  the  swallows  darting  up  into 
their  nests  under  the  eaves,  and  then  diving  out 
again,  and  skimming  away  over  the  great  pas- 
ture; and  then  round  the  kitchen-garden,  and 
into  the  orchard,  where  the  trees  were  all  loaded 
with  apples  and  pears,  and  so  out  into  a  stub- 
ble-field at  the  back,  where  there  were  a  lot  of 
young  pigs  feeding  and  playing  queer  tricks, 
and  back  through  the  farm-yard  into  the  great 
pasture,  where  I  lay  down  on  the  grass,  under 
one  of  the  elms,  and  lighted  my  pipe ;  and 
thought  of  our  hot  clerks'  room,  and  how  Jem 
Fisher  and  little  Neddy  were  working  away 
there ;  and  watched  a  flock  of  little  shinv  star- 

* 

lings  hopping  up  on  to  the  backs  of  some  old 
south-down  wethers  who  were  feeding  near  me, 
and  flying  backwards  and  forwards  into  the  old 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  31 

elms  and  walnut-trees,  talking  to  one  another 
all  the  while. 

And  so  the  time  wore  on,  till  a  stout  lass  in  a 
blue  cotton  print  came  out,  and  called  the  cows 
in  to  milking ;  and  they  all  went  trooping  slowly 
by  into  the  farm-yard,  some  of  them  just  stop- 
ping to  stare  at  me  with  their  mild  eyes,  and 
smelling  so  sweet,  that  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  go 
on  smoking,  and  let  my  pipe  out.  And  after  a 
bit,  I  followed  into  the  line  of  sheds  where  they 
were  being  milked  by  the  lass  and  a  man,  who 
balanced  himself  on  two  legs  of  the  milking- 
stool,  and  drove  his  head  into  the  cow's  side  ; 
and  I  thought  I  had  never  heard  a  sweeter 
sound  than  the  tinkling  sound  which  the  milk 
made  in  the  bright,  tin  pails. 

I  soon  got  into  a  talk  with  the  lass,  who  was 
very  pleasant  and  free  spoken  ;  and  presently, 
when  her  pail  was  full,  I  lifted  it  out  for  her,  all 
frothing  up,  and  looking  not  a  bit  like  our  Lon- 
don sky-blue ;  and  I  told  her  I  didn't  think  I 
had  ever  tasted  real  new  milk  ;  so  she  got 
me  a  long  straw,  and  while  she  went  on 
milking,  I  went  down  on  my  knees,  and  be- 
gan to  suck  away  through  the  straw.  But  I 
had  hardly  begun,  when  I  heard  a  noise  behind, 


32  THE    SCOURING   OF 

and  looking  round,  there  stood  Joe,  laughing  all 
over  ;  and  by  his  side  a  young  woman  in  a 
broad,  straw  hat  and  a  gray  jacket;  and  though, 
for  good  manners,  she  didn't  laugh  out  like  Joe, 
I  could  see  it  was  all  she  could  do  to  keep  from 
going  off  too. 

Why  was  I  ashamed  of  being  caught  ?  I 
don't  know,  but  I  was  ashamed  ;  and  as  I  stuck 
there  on  my  knees  in  the  deep  straw  with  the 
pail  before  me  looking  at  them,  the  blood  rushed 
up  to  my  head  and  made  my  ears  sing,  so  that 
I  couldn't  hear  a  word  that  Joe  said.  But  I 
could  see  he  did  say  something,  and  then  went 
off  into  another  great  roar  of  laughter ;  and  the 
lass  and  the  man  left  off  milking  and  began 
laughing  too,  till  I  thought  they  would  have 
dropped  off  the  stools.  Then  the  young  woman 
who  was  with  Joe  said  something  to  him,  and  I 
thought  I  heard  the  words  "  What  a  shame ! " 
and  "  your  oldest  friend  ;  "  and  then  she  caught 
up  a  straw,  and  came  and  knelt  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  milk-pail,  and  began  to  suck  away 
herself  without  looking  at  me.  In  another  mo- 
ment Joe  plumped  down  too,  clapping  me  on 
the  back. 

"  I  say,"  said  he,   "  start  fair !     Here,  make 


THE    WHITE    HORSE.  33 

room  for  me  ;  you  and  Lucy  ain't  going  to  have 
it  all  to  yourselves,"  and  he  began  sucking 
away  too  ;  and  then  I  recovered  myself,  and  we 
all  went  on  for  a  minute,  when  Joe  took  his 
straw  out  of  his  mouth,  and  said,  "  This  is  my 
sister  Lucy,  Dick ;  there,  shake  hands  over  the 
pail,  and  then  let's  go  in  to  tea." 

So  she  looked  up,  and  blushed,  and  gave  me 
her  hand,  her  merry  blue  eyes  twinkling  with 
mirth,  though  she  tried  to  keep  grave.  But  I 
was  all  right  now,  and  went  off  myself,  and  Joe 
followed,  and  then  she,  with  the  clearest,  bright- 
est laugh  you  ever  heard ;  and  then  the  man 
and  the  lass,  and  by  the  time  we  had  done,  I 
felt  as  if  I  had  known  them  all  for  years.  But  as 
for  Miss  Lucy,  as  we  walked  away  to  the  house 
to  tea,  I  felt  as  if  I  could  have  given  her  my 
skin,  if  she  would  only  have  had  a  pair  of  shoes 
made  out  of  it  for  her  dear  little  feet. 

The  old  lady  was  sitting  at  the  tea-table  in 
great  force,  with  plates  of  buttered  toast  and 
cake,  and  pots  of  blackberry  and  red-currant 
jam,  and  the  great  loaf  all  set  out  ready ;  and 
after  tea,  we  three  walked  out  again  till  the  sun 
set,  and  then  came  in  to  supper,  at  which  I  was 
surprised  to  find  myself  eating  away  just  as  if 

2* 


34  THE   SCOURING   OF 

I  had  had.  nothing  all  day ;  country  air  does  give 
one  such  an  appetite.  After  supper,  the  old 
lady  sat  in  her  chair  knitting  and  telling  stories, 
till  she  nodded  off  and  the  spectacles  fell  on  to 
the  end  of  her  nose,  and  her  hands  into  her  lap, 
but  still  holding  the  needles ;  and  every  now 
and  then  giving  a  catch  with  her  head,  and 
making  belief  to  go  on  for  a  stitch  or  two.  And 
Miss  Lucy  sat  stitching  at  a  patch-work  cover- 
let, fitting  in  all  sorts  of  scraps  of  silk  in  the 
prettiest  patterns  in  the  world,  and  we  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table  watching  her,  and  talking 
quite  low  not  to  disturb  the  old  lady.  But  what 
made  it  so  pleasant  was,  that  I  had  pretty  near 
all  the  talking,  for  they  seemed  never  tired  of 
hearing  about  London,  and  how  people  lived 
there,  and  what  they  thought;  especially  Miss 
Lucy,  who  had  never  been  out  of  Berkshire  in 
her  life.  I  thought  Joe  a  great  fidget,  when  soon 
after  nine  he  began  to  walk  about  and  waked 
his  mother,  and  got  the  servants  in  to  prayers, 
and  bustled  them  off  to  bed ;  but  I  believe  it 
was  all  because  he  wanted  to  have  his  pipe, 
which  he  wouldn't  smoke  in  the  parlour.  So 
we  went  into  the  kitchen  and  finished  the  day 
there,  under  half  a  score  of  great  brown  sides  of 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  35 

bacon,  and  tufts  of  sweet  herbs  which  hung 
drying  from  the  corners  of  the  rack,  and  oppo- 
site to  the  dresser  with  its  rows  of  pewter  plates 
as  bright  as  silver,  till  I  went  to  bed  in  sheets 
smelling  of  lavender,  and  dreamt  of  Miss  Lucy. 

I  dare  say  that,  though  I  should  never  be 
tired  of  telling  about  every  thing  that  happened 
to  me  at  Elm  Close,  some  people  may  get  tired 
of  reading  about  it.  So  I  shall  only  begin  my 
story  of  the  next  day  after  breakfast,  when  Joe 
had  the  trap  out  again,  and  carried  me  off  to 
see  what  was  doing  up  on  White  Horse  Hill. 

We  had  a  very  pleasant  drive  through  the 
Vale  to  Uffington,  which  lies  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  and  here  Joe  put  up  the  trap,  at  the  Swan, 
and  we  set  off  on  foot  to  walk  up.  It  was  very 
hot,  and  the  white  road  glared  as  we  tramped 
along  it,  but  very  soon  we  came  to  broad  strips 
of  turf  on  each  side,  and  then  it  was  pleasant 
enough ;  so  we  plodded  up  a  gentle  rise  called 
Sour  Hill,  and  crossed  the  Iceldon  or  Iggleton 
way,  which  I've  found  out  since  was  an  old 
Roman  road ;  and  then  the  ascent  became  quite 
steep,  and  every  thing  was  clear  hill  and  down 
before  us,  not  a  fence  to  be  seen,  and  a  fresh 
breeze  came  sweeping  over  the  hill. 


36  THE   SCOURING   OF 

The  road  now  became  very  bad,  with  'ruts  in 
the  chalk  like  water-courses.  On  our  left  hand 
there  was  a  deep,  narrow  valley  like  a  little  bay 
running  up  into  the  hill,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
which  valley  a  large  wood  hung  along  the  steep- 
est part  of  the  hill-side,  which  Joe  informed  me 
was  Uffington  wood,  a  well-known  meet  for  the 
hounds  ;  it  made  me  giddy  to  look  at  the  places 
which  he  declared  the  huntsman,  and  any  one 
who  wanted  to  be  sure  of  a  good  place  when 
the  hounds  broke  cover,  had  to  ride  along. 

And  now  the  great,  green  hill  seemed  to  be 
hanging  right  over  us,  as  we  came  to  a  curious 
round  mound  on  our  right  hand,  up  which  Joe 
scrambled,  and  I  after  him,  till  we  both  pulled 
up  out  of  breath  on  the  flat  top,  some  fifty  yards 
across. 

"  This  is  Dragon's  Hill,"  said  Joe,  pulling  off 
his  hat  and  mopping  his  face  with  his  handker- 
chief, "  where  St.  George  killed  the  Dragon  in 
the  old  times.  Leastways  so  they  says  about 
here,  only  they  calls  him  King  George  instead 
of  Saint  George.  And  this  bare  place  is  where 
his  blood  ran  out,  and  nothing'll  grow  on  it 
since,  not  so  much  as  a  thistle." 

Of  course  I  knew  better  than  to  believe  that, 


THE    WHITE   HORSE.  37 

but  it  is  a  beautiful  place ;  for  just  below  it  an- 
other little  deep  valley,  like  the  one  on  the  left, 
only  narrower  and  steeper  at  the  sides,  runs 
right  up  into  the  hill-side.  The  road  we  had 
left  winds  round  the  head  of  this  gorge,  for  any 
one  to  drive  along  who  isn't  particular  about 
breaking  his  neck,  for  the  hill  is  like  a  wall  up 
above,  and  down  below,  with  nothing  but  a 
little  bank  between  you  and  the  descent. 

"  Those  are  the  giants'  seats  opposite,"  said 
Joe,  pointing  across  the  valley  to  a  set  of  beau- 
tiful great  green  slopes,  like  huge  ridges  and 
furrows,  which  went  sweeping  down  into  the 
valley  one  after  another  as  far  as  I  could  see ; 
"  and  this  is  the  Manger,  this  great  hole  in  the 
hill-side,  because  it  lies  right  under  the  old 
Horse's  nose.  Come  along,  let's  get  up  to 
him ;  there  he  is,  you  see,  right  above  us." 

So  we  scrambled  down  the  side  of  Dragon's 
Hill,  crossed  the  road,  and  then  started  up  a 
row  of  steps  cut  in  the  turf.  I'm  sure  it  must 
be  twice  as  steep  as  the  hill  in  Greenwich  Park, 
and  I  don't  mind  confessing  that  I  shouldn't 
have  liked  to  look  round  just  at  first,  and 
wouldn't  have  minded  giving  myself  a  help 
with  my  hands  if  I  hadn't  been  afraid  of  Joe's 


38  THE   SCOURING  OF 

seeing  me  and  laughing.  I  should  think  we 
must  have  gone  up  two  hundred  steps,  when  all 
of  a  sudden  Joe  stopped  just  above  me,  and 
called  out,  "  Here  we  are ;  '•'  and  in  about  four 
steps  I  came  to  a  trench  cut  into  the  chalk 
about  two  feet  deep,  which  ran  up  the  hill-side 
right  ahead  of  us.  The  chalk  in  the  trench 
was  all  hard  and  flat,  and  seemed  to  have  been 
scraped  and  brushed  up  quite  lately. 

"  This  is  his  tail,"  said  Joe.  "  Come  on ; 
look,  they're  scouring  him  up  above;  we're  in 
luck — I  thought  they'd  have  done  before  this; 
and  there's  the  Squire  too  with  'em." 

So  I  looked  up  ;  and  there,  some  way  above, 
I  saw  a  lot  of  men  with  shovels,  and  besoms, 
and  barrows,  cleaning  away  at  the  trench, 
which,  now  that  I  began  to  look  at  it,  certainly 
came  out  more  and  more  like  a  horse  galloping ; 
and  there  amongst  them,  working  away  as  hard 
as  any  one,  was  a  person  in  yellow  leather 
gaiters,  who  I  saw  at  once  must  be  the  Squire, 
though  I  had  never  seen  a  squire  before.  I  own 
I  had  a  great  prejudice  against  a  country  squire 
when  I  went  down  into  Berkshire  ;  which  was 
natural  enough,  you  see,  because  I  had  never 
been  farther  from  town  than  Twickenham  (ex- 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  39 

cept  by  boat  to  Margate),  and  had  belonged  to 
a  debating  society  near  Farringdon-market  ever 
since  I  left  school,  where  we  take  in  three  liberal 
papers,  and  once  a  week  have  as  good  speaking 
as  they  get  in  the  House  of  Commons.  I 
haven't  been  to  the  debates  much  lately,  my- 
self; but  when  I  was  an  active  member,  we 
used  to  have  a  regular  go  in  about  once  a  quar- 
ter at  the  unpaid  magistracy.  How  we  did 
give  it  them !  They  were  bloated  aristocrats, 
who  by  the  time  they  were  thirty  had  drunk 
out  all  the  little  brains  they  ever  had,  and  spent 
their  time  in  preserving  and  killing  game  and 
foxes  at  the  expense  of  the  farmers,  and  send- 
ing every  good  man  in  their  villages  either  to 
the  Bastlle  (as  we  called  the  workhouse),  as  a 
pauper,  or  to  the  county  jail  as  a  poacher. 

Joe  and  I  very  nearly  quarrelled  over  one  of 
those  debates  to  which  I  took  him,  like  a  great 
gaby  as  I  was,  when  he  came  up  to  see  me  at 
the  time  of  a  cattle-show.  He  would  get  up  to 
speak,  all  I  could  do  to  stop  him;  and  began, 
all  red  in  the  face,  pitching  into  one  of  our  best 
speakers  who  had  just  finished,  calling  him  a 
cockney,  and  asking  him  what  right  he  had  to 
jaw  about  squires  when  he  talked  about  a  fox's 


40  THE   SCOURING   OF 

ears  and  tail,  and  didn't  know  mangold-wurzel 
from  swedes.  And  then  all  our  fellows  began 
to  shout  and  hiss,  and  Joe  began  to  swear,  and 
wanted  to  take  his  coat  off,  and  fight  all  who 
had  spoken  ;  "  one  down,  and  t'other  come  on," 
as  he  said.  I  got  him  out  and  took  him  home ; 
but  his  blood  was  up,  and  he  would  go  on  at 
our  Society,  and  call  us  a  set  of  quill-driving 
jackanapes.  And  I  couldn't  stand  that,  so  I 
began  at  the  landed  interest,  and  said  all  the 
bad  of  them  I  could  think  of,  about  the  Poor- 
Laws,  game  preserving,  and  the  Corn-laws. 
Joe  was  very  near  going  off  in  a  huff,  but  we 
shook  hands  over  it  at  last,  and  agreed  that  we 
neither  of  us  knew  much  about  the  sort  of  life 
the  other  led,  and  so  had  better  not  talk  about 
it  as  if  we  did. 

Well,  this  was  the  first  squire  I  had  ever  seen, 
so  I  looked  at  him  with  all  my  eyes ;  and  if  all 
squires  were  like  him,  I  don't  wonder  at  Joe's 
getting  in  a  passion  at  our  talk  in  Farringdon- 
market.  I  should  think  he  must  be  about  forty- 
five  years  old,  and  stands  not  far  short  of  six 
feet  high ;  for  when  he  came  to  stand  by  Joe,  I 
could  see  he  was  the  taller  of  the  two  ;  but 
he  didn't  look  so  tall  quite  when  he  stood  by 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  41 

himself — I  suppose  because  his  figure  was  so 
good.  For  you  never  saw  such  a  clean  made 
man ;  he  was  for  all  the  world  like  a  well- 
rounded  wedge  from  his  shoulders  down,  and 
his  neck  and  head  put  on  like  a  statue.  He 
looked  just  as  if  he  could  have  jumped  the 
highest  five-barred  gate  in  the  Vale,  and  then 
have  carried  it  off  on  his  shoulders,  and  run 
up  the  hill  with  it.  And  his  face,  which  was 
well  browned,  was  so  manly  and  frank,  and  his 
voice  so  cheery,  and  he  looked  you  so  straight 
in  the  face,  that  you  felt  he  wasn't  ashamed  of 
any  thing,  or  afraid  of  anybody ;  and  so  you 
looked  him  back  and  spoke  out,  and  were  twice 
as  good  a  man  at  once  yourself  while  you  were 
talking  to  him. 

Well,  when  the  Squire  saw  Joe,  he  stopped 
working  away  with  his  shovel,  and  called  out 
to  him ;  and  so  Joe  went  up  and  shook  hands 
with  him,  and  began  talking  to  him,  and  in 
another  minute  the  Squire  called  for  his  coat 
—  a  gray  tweed  shooting-jacket  it  was  —  and 
put  it  on,  and  took  up  his  riding-whip,  and 
told  the  men  to  look  alive  and  get  their  job 
done,  and  then  to  send  up  to  the  Castle  for 
some  beer  and  bread  and  cheese  which  he 
would  order  for  them. 


42  THE   SCOURING  OF 

Then  Joe  and  the  Squire  walked  away  along 
the  hill-side  talking,  and  I  went  and  sat  down 
on  a  little  mound,  just  above  the  Horse's  ears, 
and  watched  the  men  working,  and  looked  at 
the  view.  How  I  did  enjoy  myself!  The  turf 
was  as  soft  as  a  feather  bed,  and  as  springy 
as  horsehair ;  and  it  was  all  covered  with  this- 
tle down,  which  came  drifting  along  like  snow 
with  the  south  wind ;  and  all  down  below  the 
country  looked  so  rich  and  peaceful,  stretching 
out  for  miles  and  miles  at  my  feet  in  the  hazy 
sunshine,  and  the  larks  right  up  overhead  sang 
so  sweetly,  that  I  didn't  know  whether  to  laugh 
or  cry.  I  should  have  liked  to  have  had  a  turn 
at  the  besoms  and  shovels  with  the  men,  who 
seemed  very  good-tempered,  only  I  was  too  shy, 
and  I  couldn't  make  out  half  they  said.  So 
I  took  out  my  pipe  and  lighted  it,  and  sat 
looking  on  at  the  work,  and  thinking  of 
nothing. 

Presently  a  gentleman  whom  I  hadn't  noticed, 
but  who  was  poking  about  the  place,  came  and 
sat  down  near  me.  He  was  dressed  in  dark 
clothes,  very  quiet ;  I  suppose  he  was  a  parson 
from  some  <  f  the  villages  near.  And  we  began 
talking  about  the  weather,  and  what  chance 


THE    WHITE   HORSE.  43 

there  was  of  having  fine  days  for  the  pastime. 
He  was  a  very  grave,  elderly  man,  but  easy 
and  pleasant,  and  had  a  keen  look  in  his  gray 
eyes,  and  a  sort  of  twinkle  about  his  mouth, 
which  made  me  put  my  best  leg  foremost,  and 
take  care  what  I  said. 

"Well,  when  we  had  done  about  the  weather, 
thinks  I,  "  This  is  just  the  sort  of  gentleman 
to  tell  me  what  I  want  to  know  about  the 
White  Horse  and  all  the  rest  of  it,"  and  you'll 
see  as  you  go  on  that  I  never  made  a  better 
guess  in  my  life.  So  I  got  my  note-book  out 
quietly,  so  that  he  shouldn't  take  much  notice 
of  what  I  was  about,  and  began,  "  I  suppose, 
Sir,"  said  I,  "  that  it's  all  right  about  Alfred, 
and  that  he  really  did  cut  out  this  figure  after 
winning  a  great  battle  up  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  I  think  so  myself,  because 
there  has  always  been  a  tradition  in  the  country 
side  that  this  was  so.  And  where  antiquaries 
differ,  a  tradition  of  this  sort  may  always  be 
pretty  safely  believed.  Country  folk  hold  on 
to  such  stories,  and  hand  them  down  in  a 
very  curious  manner ;  but  you  know,  I  dare 
say,  that  it  is  claimed  by  some  as  a  Druidi- 
cal,  or  at  any  rate  a  British  monument,  which 


44  THE   SCOURING   OF 

would  make  it  several  hundred  years  older  at 
least." 

I  didn't  know  any  thing  about  it,  but  why 
should  I  tell  him  so.  "  I  shouldn't  like  to  think 
so,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  because  one  wouldn't  care  so 
much  about  it  if  it  wasn't  made  by  the  Saxons 
and  their  great  king.  The  Druids  don't  seem 
akin  to  us  somehow ;  and  then  one  would  lose 
all  about  the  great  battle,  which  was  certainly 
fought  up  here,  wasn't  it,  Sir  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  about  it,"  said  he  ;  "  there 
are  many  signs  of  it — above  all,  graves  enough 
to  hold  the  harvest  of  many  battles.  You  are 
lying  on  one." 

"  No  !  am  I  really,  though  ?  "  said  I,  sitting 
up  and  looking  at  the  ground ;  "  how  do  you 
know  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  isn't  very  hard  when  the  eye  gets 
used  to  them,"  said  he  ;  "  there's  another  ;  "  and 
he  pointed  to  a  small  mound  a  few  yards  off, 
and  just  like  the  one  I  was  sitting  on.  "  That 
larger  mound,  too,  down  below,  across  the  road, 
you  were  on  it  just  now — " 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  said  I,  interrupting  him,  and 
pointing  at  it,  "Dragon's  Hill." 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  he;  "that's  another  burial- 


THE  WHITE   HORSE.  45 

place ;  a  larger  and  grander  affair,  you  see,  than 
these.  •  Probably  a  king  or  other  very  noble 
person  is  buried  there." 

"  The  people  say,  Sir,  don't  they,"  said  I, 
« that  St.  George  killed  the  Dragon  there  ?  " 

"  They  do,"  said  he,  "  and  that  his  blood 
made  a  pool  on  the  top,  and  ran  down  the 
steps  on  the  other  side,  where  the  grass  has 
never  grown  since.  This  is  another  curious 
instance  of  the  tenacity  of  tradition  ;  but  here 
I  think  our  good  folk  in  the  Vale  have  held 
on  to  the  name,  or  a  part  of  it,  and  forgotten 
the  meaning,  just  as  they  have  in  the  case  of 
another  village  over  there  in  Oxfordshire,  the 
name  of  which  is  Stanton  Harcourt." 

"  How  was  that,  Sir  ? "  said  I,  when  he 
paused. 

"  "Well,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  an  old  man  in 
that  village  told  me  that  a  battle  was  fought 
there,  which  the  English  were  very  near  losing, 
when  the  general  rode  up  to  one  of  his  cap- 
tains, named  Harcourt,  who  was  in  the  thick  of 
it,  and  called  out,  '  Stan'  to  un,  Harcourt, 
stan'  to  un,  Harcourt;'  and  that  Harcourt  won 
the  battle,  and  the  village  has  been  called 
Stanton  Harcourt  ever  since.  Now,  as  to  that 


46  THE   SCOURING  OF 

mound,  I  believe  it's  right  name  to  be  Pen- 
dragon's  Hill.  Pendragon,  you  know,  is  only 
a  name  common  to  those  of  the  kings  of  the 
ancient  Britons,  who  were  chosen  leaders  in 

X 

the  time  of  national  distress,  and  means  no- 
thing more  than  '  caput  regum,'  '  the  chief  of 
kings.'  According  to  some,  'Arthur'  is  the 
same  or  alike  word,  being  'Ardh-reg'  or 'Ard- 
heer,'  and  meaning  '  summus  Rex '  (whence 
the  'Arviragus'  of  Juvenal;  but  I  lay  no  stress 
on  this).  Now  we  know  of  at  least  three  Pen- 
dragons.  There  was  Cassibelan,  who  was 
chosen  Pendragon  at  the  time  of  Julius  Ceesar's 
invasion,  TJter  Pendragon,  and  Arthur  Pen- 
dragon  ;  which  Uter  and  Arthur  were,  without 
doubt,  chosen  to  resist  the  Saxons,  who  had 
won  already  the  eastern  part  of  the  island.  And 
if  Arthur  and  Pendragon  are  the  same  words, 
doubtless  (as  has  been  well  supposed),  there 
were  many  Arthurs  at  this  time,  one  of  whom 
was  probably  slain  in  battle  and  buried  here.* 

*  E.  Martin  Atkins,  Esq.,  of  Kingston  Lisle,  has  lately  been  open- 
ing the  barrows  which  are  nearest  to  the  Horse ;  and  the  compiler, 
hearing  that  he  was  about  to  examine  Dragon's  Hill  also,  wrote  to 
him  on  the  subject,  and  suggested  how  desirable  it  would  be  (if 
any  ways  possible)  to  find  the  remains  of  King  Basgseek  there 
who  was  slain  at  Ashdown.  To  which  communication  the  com- 


THE    WHITE   HORSE.  47 

For  in  the  Saxon  annals  we  find  that  Cedric, 
founder  of  the  West  Saxon  kingdom,  slew 
Natan-leod  and  five  thousand  men  in  these 
parts,  which  Natan-leod  (as  is  shown  by  Mr. 
Baxter)  is  '  Naud-an-ludh,'  or  '  populi  tutela,' 
the  people's  refuge ;  in  fact,  a  kindred  word  to 
'  Pendragon,'  or  'Arthur.'  You  see  how  prob- 
able this  would  be  primd  facie  ?  "  said  he,  turn- 
ing round  to  me. 

"  My  goodness  !  I  couldn't  make  out  head  or 
tail  of  his  long  words,  and  was  staring  at,  him 
with  my  mouth  open ;  but  when  he  turned 
round  I  shut  it  pretty  quick,  and  looked  as  wise 

piler  received  the  following  reply.  After  mentioning  the  contents 
of  the  other  barrows,  some  clearly  Saxon,  others  Romano-  British, 
his  letter  proceeds  as  to  Dragon's  Hill: — 

"As  for  old  Bsegseek,  I  should  chuck  him  overboard  at  once, 
and  assume  that  our  friend  Uter  Peudragon's  remains  had  been 
originally  deposited  here,  but  that  he  had  been  disturbed  in  his 
repose  by  the  decapitation  of  the  barrow,  which  at  some  unknown 
time  has  undoubtedly  taken  place.  It  is  unfortunate,  however.) 
that  a  Roman  coin  of  the  time  of  Constans  turned  up  from  among 
the  de'bris,  and  the  fragments  of  pottery  also  were  chiefly  of  Roman 
manufacture,  mixed  with  some  of  earlier  date.  It  will  therefore 
perhaps  be  difficult  to  reconcile  these  matters  one  with  the  other; 
but  on  turning  them  over  in  your  mind,  you  will,  I  dare  say, 
theorize  with  a  very  agreeable  correctness  !  "  What  is  a  wretched 
compiler  to  do,  who  gets  such  letters  from  those  who  should  be 
his  aiders  and  abettors? 


48  THE   SCOURING   OF 

as  I  could.  «  Well,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  I  hardly 
know ;  but  it  doesn't  look  unlikely,  does  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  he,  quite  pleased ; 
"  and  as  the  Britons  were  not  driven  from 
these  parts  till  the  middle  of  the  sixth  cen- 
tury, I  should  put  the  throwing  up  of  Dragon's 
Hill  in  the  beginning,  say  the  first  half,  of  that 
century.  Now,  in  the  year  A.D.  520,  according 
to  Gildas  and  Bede,  Arthur  gained  his  twelfth 
victory  at  '  Mons  Badonicus,'  which  might  very 
well  be  Baydon  Hill,  which  you  see  over  there." 
And  he  pointed  to  a  hill  three  or  four  miles  off. 

"  But  then,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  if  he  gained  the 
victory,  he  wasn't  killed  there,  I  suppose,  and  so 
he  couldn't  be  buried  here." 

"  But  he  was  killed  in  battle  at  last,"  said  he ; 
"  and,  as  I  told  you,  there  must  have  been 
many  Arthurs  or  Pendragons  just  at  that  time, 
and  many  battles  fought  between  this  and 
Bath — why,  the  Britons  gained  a  battle  at 
Wanborough,  over  there,  as  late  as  A.D.  581." 

"  But,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  if  Pendragon  was  buried 
down  there,  wouldn't  they  have  been  very  likely 
to  cut  out  the  horse  up  here  just  above,  as  an- 
other monument,  at  the  same  time ;  and  then 
what  becomes  of  King  Alfred  and  the  Danes  ?  " 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  49 

"  There  is  no  instance  of  two  such  monu- 
ments over  one  chief,"  answered  he,  quite  posi- 
tive ;  but  I  thought  I  saw  him  give  a  twinkle 
with  his  mouth,  as  if  he  felt  I  had  been  pretty 
near  him.  "  Besides,  as  I  said  before,  the  tra- 
dition as  to  the  White  Horse  is  too  strong  to  be 
upset  by  conjecture." 

"  1  didn't  mean  to  conjecture,  I'm  sure,  Sir," 
said  I ;  and  I  thought,  though  I  didn't  say  so, 
it  was  he  who  had  been  conjecturing  pretty 
freely,  if  it  came  to  that.  "  The  battle  of  Ash- 
down,  Sir,  was  a  very  great  battle  then,"  I  went 
on,  for  I  liked  to  hear  him  talk  about  those  old 
times,  though  I  didn't  quite  understand  all  he 
said. 

"  The  greatest  battle  probably  in  which  Alfred 
ever  was,"  said  he. 

"  Please.  Sir,"  said  I,  "  I  hope  you  won't 
think  me  troublesome,  but  if  you  would  only 
tell  me  about  the  battle  I  should  be  so  much 
obliged  to  you." 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  looking  at  me  rather  surprised, 
"it  is  seldom  that  I  can  get  any  of  the  youth 
of  this  day  to  take  an  interest  in  these  matters, 
the  study  of  which  would  greatly  benefit  their 


50  THE   SCOURING   OF 

manners  and  morals.  I  shall  be  pleased  to  do 
what  you  wish.  Are  you  a  good  listener  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  you  will  get  tired  of  talk- 
ing long  before  I  shall  of  listening.  And  you 
wouldn't  mind,  I  hope,  my  taking  notes  of  the 
story  ?  " 

"  By  no  means,"  said  he ;  "I  see  "you  are 
ready  with  your  pen.  Perhaps  I  shouldn't  have 
told  you  so  much  about  Pendragon  and  Natan- 
leod  if  I  had  seen  that  you  were  taking  me 
down ;  but  now  I  will  be  careful  to  give  you 
nothing  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  most 
trustworthy  chroniclers.  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  said  I ;  and  then  he  settled  him- 
self in  the  turf,  and  pulled  a  couple  of  old 
brown  books  out  of  his  long  coat-tail  pockets, 
to  which  he  sometimes  referred,  and  looking  out 
over  the  Vale,  as  if  he  were  travelling  in  his 
mind  far  away  from  me  and  every  thing  about 
us  on  the  hill-side,  began  as  follows. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  51 


CHAPTER  HI. 

NEARLY  a  thousand  years  ago,  in  the  year  of 
our  Lord  871,  the  great  battle  of  Ashdown  was 
fought ;  but,  in  order  to  give  you  a  true  idea  of 
its  importance,  I  must  begin  my  story  some 
years  earlier ;  that  is  to  say,  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  866.  In  this  year  ^Ethelbert,  king  of  the 
West  Saxons,  died,  having  ruled  his  kingdom 
for  five  years  in  peace,  with  the  love  of  his 
subjects  ;  and  ^Ethelred,  his  next  brother,  who 
succeeded  him,  buried  his  body  in  Sherborne 
Minster.  In  this  year  Alfred,  the  younger 
brother,  who  afterwards  succeeded  ^Ethelred, 
and  was  called  Alfred  the  Great,  reached  his 
seventeenth  year.  In  the  autumn  a  great  army 
of  pagan  Danes  came  over  to  Britain,  and 
landed  in  that  part  of  the  island  which  was 
then  called  East  Anglia,  but  now  Norfolk. 
These  were  not  the  first  Danes  who  had  come 
over  to  vex  England,  but  none  of  them  ever 


52  THE  SCOURING   OF 

stayed  so  long,  fought  so  many  battles,  or  did 
so  much  harm  (as  we  should  say,  speaking  ac- 
cording to  man's  judgment)  as  these. 

A  very  curious  story  is  told  of  why  they  came 
over  here ;  and  as  it  goes  at  first  sight  against  a 
good  many  of  our  notions  of  how  the  world  is 
governed,  and  so  ought  to  make  us  think  a  little 
more  about  the  matter,  I  shall  give  it  you  pretty 
much  as  it  is  told  by  the  old  chronicler,  John 
Brompton. 

"  There  was  a  man  of  royal  birth  in  the 
kingdom  of  Denmark,  named  Lodbroc,  who  had 
two  sons,  Hinguar  and  Hubba.  This  man  em- 
barked one  day  with  his  hawk  in  a  small  boat 
to  catch  ducks,  and  other  wild-fowl  on  the  ad- 
joining sea-coasts  and  islands.  A  terrible  storm 
arose,  by  which  Lodbroc  was  carried  away  and 
tossed  for  several  days  on  every  part  of  the 
ocean.  After  numberless  perils,  he  was  cast 
ashore  on  the  coast  of  Norfolk,  near  the  village 
of  Redham,"  (at  least  that  must  be  the  name,  as 
I  read  it  in  Brompton,  though  I  have  not  been 
able  to  hear  of  a  village  of  that  name  on  the 
coast  of  Norfolk,)  "  where  he  was  found  having 
his  hawk  alone  for  his  companion,  and  pre- 
sented to  King  Edmund.  That  king,  struck 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  53 

with  the  manliness  of  his  form,  kept  him  at  his 
court,  and  heard  from  his  own  mouth  the  his- 
tory of  his  adventures.  He  was  then  associated 
with  Berne,  the  king's  huntsman,  and  indulged 
in  all  the  pleasures  of  the  chase,  for  in  the  exer- 
cise of  both  hunting  and  hawking  he  was  re- 
markably skilful,  and  succeeded  in  capturing 
both  birds  and  beasts  according  as  he  had  a 
mind."  In  fact,  Lodbroc  was  the  sort  of  man 
to  please  King  Edmund,  for  the  art  of  captur- 
ing birds  and  beasts  was,  next  to  the  art  of 
fighting  for  one's  home  and  country,  the  art 
most  esteemed  amongst  the  Anglo-Saxons  ; 
who  acknowledged  "  that  skill  and  good  fortune 
in  this  art,  as  in  all  others,  are  among  the  gifts 
of  God,  as  we  also  have  often  witnessed."  But 
to  go  on  with  our  story.  "  The  skill  of  Lodbroc 
bred  jealousy  in  the  heart  of  Berne  the  hunts- 
man, who  one  day,  as  they  went  out  together 
hunting,  unawares  set  upon  Lodbroc,  and  hav- 
ing foully  slain  him,  buried  his  body  in  the 
thickets  of  the  forest.  But  Lodbroc  had  a  small 
harrier  dog,  which  he  had  bred  up  from  its  birth, 
and  which  loved  him  much.  While  Berne  the 
huntsman  went  home  with  the  other  hounds, 
this  little  dog  remained  alone  with  his  master's 


54  THE   SCOURING   OF 

body.  In  the  morning,  the  king  asked  what  had 
become  of  Lodbroc,  to  which  Berne  answered 
that  he  had  parted  from  him  yesterday  in  the 
woods,  and  had  not  seen  him  since.  At  that 
moment  the  harrier  came  into  the  hall  and  went 
round  wagging  its  tail,  and  fawning  on  the 
whole  company,  but  especially  on  the  king  ; 
when  he  had  eaten  his  fill,  he  again  left  the  hall. 
This  happened  often ;  until  some  one  at  last 
followed  the  dog  to  see  where  he  went,  and 
having  found  the  body  of  the  murdered  Lod- 
broc, came  and  told  the  story  to  the  king.  The 
affair  was  now  carefully  inquired  into,  and 
when  the  truth  was  at  last  found  out,  the  hunts- 
man was  exposed  on  the  sea,  without  oars,  in 
the  boat  which  had  belonged  to  Lodbroc.  In 
some  days,  he  was  cast  ashore  in  Denmark,  and 
brought  before  the  sons  of  Lodbroc ;  who,  put- 
ting him  to  the  torture,  inquired  of  him  what 
had  become  of  their  father,  to  whom  they  knew 
the  boat  belonged.  To  this  Berne  answered," 
as  one  might  have  guessed  he  would  answer,  he 
being  a  liar  and  cowardly  murderer,  "  that  their 
father  Lodbroc  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
Edmund,  King  of  East  Anglia,  by  whose  orders 
he  had  been  put  to  death."  Now,  King  Ed- 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  55 

mund  was  a  wise  and  righteous  man,  who 
"  devoutly  undertook  the  government  of  the 
East  Angles,  and  held  it  with  the  right  hand  of 
power,  always  adoring  and  glorifying  God  for 
all  the  good  things  which  he  enjoyed ; "  *  and  it 
is  a  pity  he  did  not  on  this  occasion  remember, 
that  having  safely  caught  a  great  scoundrel,  the 
best  thing  to  do  with  him  was  to  see  him  hung 
out  of  the  way  himself;  for,  by  letting  him  go, 
you  see,  he  gave  a  chance  to  the  devil,  who 
can't  afford  to  lose  such  gentlemen  as  Berne  the 
huntsman  out  of  the  world,  and  has  consider- 
able grudges  against  kings  like  Edmund. 

Well,  when  Hinguar  and  Hubba  heard  the 
tale  of  Berne  the  huntsman,  they,  like  good  and 
true  sons,  according  to  the  notions  of  piety  then 
current  amongst  the  Danes,  hastened  to  fit  out 
a  fleet  to  invade  England,  and  avenge  their 
father.  And  their  three  sisters  wove  for  them 
the  standard,  called  the  Raven,  in  one  day — 
which  flag  waved  over  many  a  bloody  field, 
from  Northumbria  to  Devonshire,  until  it  was 
taken  by  King  Alfred's  men,  under  Odda,  the 
Alderman  of  Devon,  before  a  certain  castle  in 
that  county,  which  is  called  Cynuit  by  Asser, 

*  See  Simeon,  A.I>  870. 


56  THE   SCOURING   OF 

and  Kenuith  elsewhere,  (the  situation  of  which 
castle  I  cannot  identify,  or  the  name,)  where 
were  slain  King  Halfdene,  a  brother  of  Hinguar 
and  Hubba,  and  840  Danish  warriors.  It  was 
said,  that  when  the  Danes  were  about  to  gain  a 
battle,  a  live  crow  would  fly  before  the  middle 
of  the  standard  ;  but  if  they  were  to  be  beaten, 
it  would  hang  motionless.* 

So  Hinguar  and  Hubba,  as  has  been  said, 
landed  in  the  country  of  the  East  Angles,  in 
the  late  autumn,  bent  on  vengeance.  King 
Edmund  knew  nothing  of  the  blood-feud  be- 
tween him  and  these  Danish  leaders,  by  reason 
of  Berne's  lying  story,  so  took  no  more  than  the 
usual  measures  for  preparing  to  attack  them  ; 
but  whether  it  was  that  they  found  King  Ed- 
mund too  strong  for  them  at  the  time,  or  for 
some  other  reason,  they  seem  to  have  wintered 
there  quietly,  and  to  have  bought  horses,  and 
made  some  sort  of  truce  with  the  East  Angles. f 
But  in  the  spring  of  the  year  867,  they  crossed 
the  Humber,  marched  hastily  upon  York,  and 
took  it. 

The  kingdom  of  Northumbria  was  just  the 

*  See  Chronicle  of  St.  Neot,  A.D.  878. 
t  See  Saxon  Chron.  and  Asser,  A.D.  866. 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  57 

place  for  the  army  of  Pagans  and  the  standard 
Raven  at  this  time ;  for  it  was  divided  against 
itself.  Osbert,  the  rightful  king,  had  been  play- 
ing Tarquin  in  the  house  of  Bruern  Brocard, 
one  of  his  chief  earls  ;  so  his  people  had  cast 
him  out,  and  had  taken  to  themselves  a  king 
^Ella,  of  unkingly  blood,  and  the  two  were 
warring  against  one  another  when  the  Danes 
took  York.  Late  in  the  autumn,  however,  a 
peace  was  made  between  Osbert  and  .^Ella,  and 
they  marched  to  York ;  where  within  the  very 
walls  of  the  city  into  which  the  Northumbrians 
penetrated,  was  fought  a  most  bloody  battle. 
In  that  fight  fell  almost  all  the  Northumbrian 
warriors,  and  both  the  kings,  and  a  multitude 
of  noble  men  ;  and  the  remainder  who  escaped 
made  peace  with  the  Pagans.*  By  this  time,  no 
doubt,  there  was  small  spoil  left  for  Hinguar 
and  Hubba  north  of  the  Humber. 

Accordingly,  in  the  year  868,  the  pagan  army, 
leaving  Northumbria,  marched  into  Mercia,  and 
surprised  and  took  Nottingham.  Then  Burhred, 
King  of  Mercia,  and  his  witan  sent  to  ^Ethel- 
red,  king  of  the  West  Sarjiis,  to  come  and  help 
them.  And  ^Etheked  and  Alfred  marched  to 

*  See  Asser,  A.D.  8ti7. 
8* 


58  THE   SCOURING   OF 

Nottingham  with  the  West  Saxon  power,  and 
with  Burhred  besieged  the  Pagans,  there;  but 
they  could  not  force  the  wall,  and  there  was  no 
great  battle,  and  ^Ethelred  and  Alfred  went 
home  with  their  troops.  But  the  Pagans,  after 
wintering  at  Nottingham,  made  peace  with 
Burhred  and  the  Mercians ;  that  is  to  say,  such 
a  peace  as  they  loved  to  make — I  mean  a  peace 
till  it  was  worth  their  while  to  come  again  ;  for 
in  874  they  came  back,  drove  King  Burhred 
over  the  sea,  and  subdued  the  whole  country — 
and  Burhred  went  to  Rome  and  died  there,  and 
his  body  lies  in  St.  Mary's  Church  at  the  Eng- 
lish School.* 

In  the  year  869,  "  the  aforesaid  army  of 
Pagans,  galloping  back  to  Northumbria,  went 
to  York,  and  there  passed  the  winter;"  or, 
in  the  words  of  Huntingdon,  "remained  there 
cruelly  for  one  year."  And  what  sort  of  a  win- 
ter was  it  for  the  poor  Yorkshiremen  ?  "  There 
was  again  a  great  famine,  a  mortality  among 
men,  and  a  pest  among  cattle."  Such  is  the 
fate  of  a  divided  people  which  can  only  make 
truces  with  its  oppressors. 

In  this  winter,  Hinguar  and  Hubba  seem  to 

*  See  Saxon  Chron.  and  Huntingdon,  A.D.  874. 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  59 

have  got  large  reinforcements  from  over  the  sea, 
headed  by  two  other  kings,  Basgseeg  and  Half- 
dane  their  brother,  for  in  the  year  870  we  find 
them  no  longer  surprising  a  city,  and  from 
thence  defying  their  enemies  and  oppressing  the 
neighbourhood.  Now  they  march  openly  and 
fearlessly  across  Mercia ;  and,  the  day  of  ven- 
geance having  come,  burst  upon  East  Anglia, 
and  take  up  their  head-quarters  at  Thetford. 
And  then  comes  the  saddest  part  of  a  sad  story. 
King  Edmund,  being  a  king  like  Josiah,  who 
believed  in  God  and  ruled  in  righteousness,  was 
not  the  man  to  see  the  desolation  of  any  part 
of  his  people,  or  to  shut  himself  up  in  fenced 
cities  while  the  pagan  cavalry  rode  through 
East  Anglia — so  the  aforesaid  King  Edmund 
gathered  his  men,  and  "  fought  fiercely  and 
manfully  against  the  army.  But  because  the 
merciful  God  foreknew  that  he  was  to  arrive  at 
the  crown  of  martyrdom,  he  there  fell  gloriously. 
Of  his  passion  I  would  fain  insert  some  par- 
ticular? into  our  history,  that  the  sons  of  men 
may  know  and  perceive  how  terrible  is  Christ 
the  Son  of  God  in  the  counsels  of  men,  and 
with  what  glorious  triumph  he  adorns  those 
whom  he  tries  here  under  the  name  of  suffer- 


60  THE   SCOURING   OF 

ing,  that  the  saying  may  be  fulfilled,  '  He  is  not 
crowned  except  he  strive  lawfully.'  (2  Tim.  ' 
ii.  5.)"*  Such  is  the  lesson  which  the  old 
monk  Simeon,  praecentor  of  the  Church  of  Dur- 
ham, gets  out  of  the  death  and  martyrdom  of 
King  Edmund,  and  I  know  not  where  we  are 
to  look  for  a  better.  Perhaps  it  may  help  us 
when  we  think  of  India  f  to  remember  with 
Simeon,  how  terrible  is  Christ  the  Son  of  God 
in  the  counsels  of  men,  and  with  what  glori- 
ous triumph  he  adorns  those  whom  he  tries 
here  under  the  name  of  suffering.  For  Hin- 
guar  and  Hubba  took  the  wounded  king  on 
the  field  of  battle,  and  tied  him  to  a  tree,  be- 
cause he  chose  to  die  sooner  than  give  over  his 
people  to  them,  and  there  shot  him  through  the 
body  with  their  arrows.^  But  his  people  got 

*  See  Simeon,  A.D.  870. 

t  N.  B.  This  was  written  in  October,  1857. 

}  Here  is  Robert  of  Gloster's  account  of  the  martyrdom: — 

u  So  that  atte  laste  to  Estangle  agen  hym  come : 

Ther  hii  barned  and  robbede  and  that  fole  to  grounde  slo™  j; 

And  as  wolves  among  ssep  reulych  hem  to  drowe, 

Seynt  Edmond  was  tho  her  kyng,  and  tho  he  sey  that  delvol  cas 

That  me  morthred  so  that  fo!e,  and  non  amendement  n'as, 

He  ches  levere  to  deye  hym-sulf,  that  such  soreve  to  ysey — 

He  dude  hym  vorth  among  ys  ton,  n'olde  he  nothyng  fle. 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  61 

the  body  and  buried  it  at  Bradoriesunyrthe, 
now  called  St.  Edmund's  Bury,  or  Bury  St. 
Edmunds ;  *  and  many  miracles  were  wrought 
at  his  tomb,  and  he  was  canonized — at  which 
honour  let  all  Englishmen  rejoice,  the  earth 
having  as  much  need  as  ever  of  many  such 
kings  and  saints. 

And  they  were  rare  then  as  now,  and  then 
as  now  men  went  their  own  way,  and  not  God's 
way,  and  cut  out  their  own  work  instead  of 
taking  his.  For  "when  King  Edmund  was 
slain,  his  brother  Edwold,  dreading  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  world,  and  seeing  thai  a  hard  lot 
had  fallen  on  himself  and  his  brother,  retired 
to  the  monastery  of  Carnelia  in  Dorsetshire, 
near  a  clear  well  which  St.  Augustine  had  for- 
merly brought  out  of  the  earth  by  prayer,  to 
baptize  the  people  in,  and  there  he  led  a  her- 
mit's life  on  only  bread  and  water."  f  Yes ! 

Hii  nome  hym  and  scourged  hym,  and  suthe  naked  hym  bounde 

To  a  tre,  and  to  hym  ssote,  and  made  hym  mony  a  wounde, 

That  the  arewe  were  on  hym  tho  thycke,  that  no  stede  n'as  by- 

leved. 

Atte  laste  hii  martred  hym,  and  smyte  of  ys  heved." 
Robert  of  Glower's    Chronicle,  p.   263,  apud   Thomas  Hearne.     Ed. 

1724. 

*  See  Saxon  Chronicle,  and  Huntingdon,  A.D.  870. 
t  See  Brompton,  A.D.  870. 


62  THE   SCOURING  OF 

and  no  doubt  thought  himself  righteous  and 
despised  others — and  left  the  kingdom  which 
God  had  given  him  to  the  Pagans,  who  "  sub- 
dued all  the  land  and  destroyed  all  the  ministers 
they  came  to,"  which  Edmund  his  brother  had 
built — "  and  that  same  time  they  came  to  Mede- 
shamstede,  and  burned  and  beat  it  down,  slew 
abbot  and  monks,  and  all  that  place  which  be- 
fore was  full  rich,  they  reduced  to  nothing,"  * 
while  Ed  wold,  who  should  have  been  there  with 
the  remnant  of  the  East  Angles,  to  make  his 
last  stand,  like  a  true  shepherd  of  his  people, 
was  eating  his  bread  and  drinking  his  water  in 
peace,  by  a  clear  well  near  the  monastery  of 
Carnelia  in  Dorsetshire. 

And  now  the  Pagan  kings,  "  with  a  new 
army,  very  great,  like  a  flowing  river  which 
carries  all  along  with  it,"  f  having  doubtless 
been  reinforced  again  from  over  the  sea,  where 
the  story  of  their  victories  had  spread  far  and 
wide,  were  looking  about  for  some  new  field 
for  plunder  and  murder.  The  whole  north  and 
east  of  England  was  a  desolate  wilderness 
behind  them  ;  London  was  in  ruins,  and  Kent' 
had  been  harried  over  and  over  again  by  their 

*  See  Sax  Chron.  A.D.  870.       f  See  Huntingdon,  A.D.  871. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  63 

brethren  the  sea-kings."  But  some  thirty  miles 
up  the  Thames  was  a  fair  kingdom,  stretching 
far  away  west,  down  to  the  distant  sea.  This 
was  Wessex,  the  kingdom  of  the  West  Angles, 
over  which  ^Ethelred,  the  brother  of  Alfred, 
was  now  ruling,  and  entering  on  the  sixth  year 
of  his  reign.  The  kingdom  had  had  peace  for 
ten  years,  and  was  full  of  royal  burgs,  and  rich 
pastures,  with  cattle  and  horses,  and  sheep. 
Perhaps  Hinguar  and  Hubba  remembered  the 
leaguer  of  Nottingham  three  years  before,  and 
how  the  West  Angles,  with  their  king  and  his 
brother,  had  hemmed  them  in  and  watched 
them  there  through  a  long  summer. 

In  the  early  years  of  their  inroad,  the  Pagans 
would  not  have  dared  to  brave  a  united  people 
with  ^Ethelred  for  king;  but  they  had  now 
grown  bold  from  success,  and  were  in  numbers 
so  great  that  "  by  reason  thereof  they  could  not 
advance  together,  but  went  by  different  roads." 
So  in  an  early  month  of  the  year  871,  with 
their  usual  swiftness,  they  marched  up  the 
Thames  valley  and  seized  on  Reading  a  royal 
burg,  and  the  then  easternmost  city  of  note  in 
Wessex.  Reading  is  situate  on  the  south  bank 
of  the  Thames  and  on  the  north  bank  of  the 


64  THE   SCOURING   OF 

Kennet,  at  the  confluence  of  the  two  rivers ; 
and,  while  part  of  the  Pagan  host  made  a 
rampart  between  the  rivers,  to  protect  their  camp 
and  the  town  which  they  had  taken,  a  large 
force,  on  the  third  day  after  their  arrival,  be- 
gan scouring  the  country  for  plunder,  under 
two  of  their  earls. 

But  the  men  of  Wessex  had  increased  and 
multiplied  as  well  as  their  cattle,  and  jEthel- 
wulf,  Alderman  of  Berkshire,  was  a  man  "  who 
raged  as  a  lion  in  battle."  So  ^Ethelwulf,  with 
what  men  he  could  get  together,  fought  with 
the  two  earls  at  Englefield,  though  he  had  but 
a  small  band  of  Christians  with  him.  But  he 
cheered  his  men,  saying  to  them,  "  though  they 
attack  us  with  the  advantage  of  more  men  we 
may  despise  them,  for  our  commander  Christ, 
is  braver  than  they."  *  Whereupon  the  men  of 
Wessex  buckled  to  their  work  under  the  oaks 
of  Englefield  Chase  (afterwards  beloved  by  the 
great  Queen  Bess),  and  there  discomfited  the 
pagans  very  sore,  and  slew  one  of  the  two 
earls.  In  one  of  the  old  chroniclers,  there  are 
a  few  lines  which  may  partly  account  for 
/Ethelwulf 's  victory  ;  "  their  two  consuls,"  says 

*  See  Simeon,  A.D.  871. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  65 

^Ethelwerd,  "forgetting  that  they  were  not  on 
board  their  fleet,  rode  proudly  through  fields  and 
meadows  on  horseback,  which  nature  had  denied 
them  ;  "  possibly  therefore  these  were  the  new 
comers,  who  had  just  joined  the  Pagan  army 
and  were  not  used  to  horses  or  landfighting. 

Within  the  next  three  days  King  ^Ethelred 
and  his  brother  Alfred  came  up  from  the  west, 
each  leading  a  strong  band  of  West  Saxon 
warrior s,-«,nd  joined  ^Ethelwulf;  and  on  the 
fourth  day  they  attacked  the  Pagans  at  Read- 
ing. Those  who  were  outside  the  rampart  they 
cut  to  pieces,  and  at  first  had  the  vantage  ;  but 
the  Pagans  came  out  with  all  their  forces,  and 
after  great  slaughter  had  been  made  on  either 
hand,  and  the  brave  JEthelwulf  had  been  slain, 
"  the  Pagans  had  possession  of  the  place  of 
death." '  Thus  the  chronicle  states  it ;  prob- 
ably the  men  of  Wessex  were  grievously  beaten, 
and  went  back  with  their  king,  in  confusion, 
along  the  chalk  hills  to  the  other  end  of  Berk- 
shire, pursued  by  Basgseeg  and  Halfdene,  the 
two  lately  arrived  Danish  kings,  with  the 
strength  of  the  Pagan  host.  I  suppose  that 
Hinguar  and  Hubba  stayed  at  Reading,  to  hold 
*  See  Saxon  Chronicle,  A.D.  871. 


66  THE   SCOURING  OF 

the  place  of  safety ;  for   neither  of  them  were 
at  Ashdown. 

But  every  mile  as  they  fell  back  added 
strength  to  ./Ethelred  and  Alfred,  as  bands  of 
men  came  up  from  the  rear;  from  the  broad 
Wiltshire  plains  over  the  Kennet  at  Hunger- 
ford,  and  along  the  chalk  hills  from  Swindon 
and  Ashbury ;  from  the  vales  of  the  Kennet 
and  the  Thames  on  either  flank ;  and  a  few 
perhaps  already  from  Glostershire  and  Oxford-- 
shire,  where  the  news  was  doubtless  spreading 
like  the  wind.  So  ^Ethelred  and  his  host  turned 
to  bay  at  Ashdown,  and  set  the  battle  in  array 
against  the  pagan  kings. 

There  is  some  question  between  antiquaries 
as  to  where  the  exact  site  of  this  battle  is. 
It  must  however,  it  seems  to  me,  be  some- 
where in  the  western  part  of  Berkshire ;  for  it 
is  quite  impossible  that  ^Ethelred  and  Al- 
fred could  have  fought  at  Reading,  at  Ash- 
down,  and  at  Basing,  as  they  unquestionably 
did,  within  three  weeks,  if  we  are  to  look  for 
Ashdown  battle-field  either  at  Ashdown  forest, 
in  Essex,  or  at  Ashendon,  in  the  hundred  of 
Bernwood  in  Buckinghamshire,  which  are  the 
only  sites  out  of  Berkshire  claiming  this  honour, 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  67 

and  supported  by  a  tittle  of  authority.  Besides, 
even  supposing  these  three  battles  could  have 
been  fought  in  the  time,  yet  the  battle  of  Read- 
ing, having  gone  against  the  Saxons,  (as  to 
which  every  chronicler  agrees,)  is  it  likely  that 
they  should  have  retired  past  the  town  and 
stronghold  of  the  Danes,  either  northeast  into 
Buckinghamshire,  or  southeast  into  Sussex, 
leaving  the  whole  of  Wessex  open  to  the  enemy, 
instead  of  falling  back  westward  into  Wessex, 
and  so  covering  their  own  homes?  It  is  per- 
fectly absurd  to  suppose  this,  Alfred  being  one 
of  their  generals ;  and  how  such  ancient  and 
venerable  persons  as  Bishops  Kennet  and  Le- 
land  can  have  talked  such  nonsense,  is  hard  to 
say  ;  unless,  indeed,  they  were  born,  the  one  in 
Sussex,  the  other  in  Buckinghamshire,  in  which 
case  it  is  of  course  excusable,  nay,  justifiable 
in  them ;  but  of  this  I  know  nothing. 

As  to  the  Berkshire  sites,  I  don't  see  any 
reason  for  troubling  you  with  their  several  ti- 
tles. I  am  myself  satisfied  that  the  battle  was 
fought  here  ;  but  all  the  sites  are  somewhere  on 
this  range  of  chalk  hills,  of  which  the  old  White 
Horse  is  king.  So  now  we  will  turn  to  the  ac- 
count of  the  great  battle  in  the  old  chroniclers. 


68  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"About  four  days  after  the  battle  at  Reading, 
King  JEthelred  and  Alfred,  his  brother,  fought 
against  the  whole  army  of  the  Pagans  at  Ash- 
down.  And  they  were  in  two  bodies ;  in  the 
one  were  Bssgseeg  and  Halfdene  the  Pagan 
kings,  and  in  the  other  were  the  earls."  "  Now 
the  Christians  had  determined  that  King  ^Ethel- 
red  with  his  men  should  attack  the  two  Pagan 
kings,  but  that  Alfred  his  brother  with  his  men, 
should  take  the  chance  of  war  against  the  earls. 
Things  being  so  settled,  the  king  remained  a 
long  time  in  prayer,  hearing  the  mass,  and  said 
he  would  not  leave  it  till  the  priest  had  done, 
nor  abandon  the  protection  of  God  for  that  of 
men.  And  so  he  did,  which  afterwards  availed 
him  much  with  the  Almighty,  as  we  shall  de- 
clare more  fully  in  the  sequel.  But  the  Pagans 
came  up  quickly  to  the  fight.  Then  Alfred, 
though  holding  a  lower  authority,  as  I  have  been 
told  by  those  who  were  there  and  would  not  lie, 
could  no  longer  support  the  troops  of  the  enemy 
unless  he  retreated  or  charged  upon  them  with- 
out waiting  for  his  brother ;  so  he  marched  out 
promptly  with  his  men  in  a  close  column  and 
gave  battle."  "  He  too,"  as  Simeon  says,  "  know- 
ing without  a  doubt  that  victory  would  not  He 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  69 

with  a  multitude  of  men,  but  in  the  pity  and 
mercy  of  God,"  and  seeing  also  that,  mass  or 
no  mass,  the  Pagans  must  not  be  allowed  to 
get  between  him  and  his  brother.  "  But  here 
I  must  inform  those  who  are  ignorant  of  the 
fact,  that  the  field  of  battle  was  not  equal  for 
both  armies.  The  Pagans  occupied  the  higher 
ground,  and  the  Christians  came  up  from  below. 
There  was  also  in  that  place  a  single  stunted 
thorn-tree,  which  I  myself  have  seen  with  my 
own  eyes.  Around  this  tree  the  opposing  hosts 
came  together  with  loud  shouts  from  all  sides, 
the  one  to  pursue  their  wicked  course,  the  other 
to  fight  for  their  lives,  their  dearest  ties,  and 
their  country."  "  In  the  midst  of  the  fight,  and 
when  Alfred  was  hard  pressed," — according  to 
Brompton,  for  the  older  chroniclers  do  not  men- 
tion this, — "  the  king  came  up  with  his  fresh 
forces."  "And  when  both  hosts  had  fought 
long  and  bravely,  at  last  the  Pagans,  by  God's 
judgment,  could  no  longer  bear  the  attack  of 
the  Christians,  and  having  lost  great  part  of 
their  men,  took  to  a  disgraceful  flight,  and  all 
the  Pagan  host  pursued  its  flight  not  only  until 
night,  but  the  next  day,  even  until  they  reached 
the  stronghold  from  which  they  had  come  out. 


70  THE   SCOURING  OF 

The  Christians  followed,  slaying  all  they  could 
reach  until  it  became  dark."*  "And  the  flower  of 
the  Pagan  youth  were  there  slain,  so  that  neither 
before  nor  since  was  ever  such  destruction 
known  since  the  Saxons  first  gained  Britain  by 
their  arms."  "  There  fell  in  that  battle  King 
Baegseeg  and  these  earls  with  him ;  that  old 
Earl  Sidroc,  to  whom  may  be  applied  that  say- 
ing '  the  ancient  of  evil  days,'  and  Earl  Sidroc 
the  younger,  and  Earl  Osbern,  and  Earl  Froena, 
and  Earl  Harold ;  who,  with  their  men,  choos- 
ing the  broad  and  spacious  way,  went  down 
into  the  depths  of  the  lake ;  "  or,  let  us  perhaps 
hope  not,  old  monk  Simeon,  seeing  that  they 
died  gallantly  in  harness,  and  that,  as  you  your- 
self add  in  the  next  sentence,  "  they  knew  not 
the  way  of  teaching  nor  understood  its  paths ; 
it  was  kept  far  away  from  their  faces."  It  is 
fair  to  add  that  Brompton  states  that  .^Ethel- 
red  slew  Bsegseeg  with  his  spear,  and  another 
Pagan  of  note  with  his  sword,  after,  he  got  up 
to  the  fight;  but  the  older  chroniclers  do  not 
mention  this.f 

*  See  Asser,  A.D.  871. 

t  This  is  Robert  of  Gloster's  account  of  the  Battle: — 
"  The  Kyng  and  Alfred  ys  brother  nome  men  ynovre, 
Mette  hem,  and  a  batayle  smyte  up  Assesdowne — 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  71 

To  finish  briefly  the  history  of  the  rest  of  the 
year  871,  fourteen  days  after  the  battle  of  Ash- 
down,  ^Ethelred  and  Alfred  fought  another  bat- 
tle with  the  Pagans  (probably  with  that  part 
which  had  remained  in  garrison  at  Reading, 
with  Hinguar  and  Hubba,  and  the  relics  of 
Halfdene's  array),  at  Basing,  which  seems  to 
have  been  undecided;  and  two  months  after- 
wards another  at  Merton.  After  which,  in  the 
summer,  reinforcements  came  from  beyond  sea, 
and  joined  the  Pagans ;  King  ./Ethelred  died, 
and  Alfred  fought  before  the  winter  four  more 
pitched  battles.  So,  as  the  Saxon  Chronicle 
sums  up,  "  in  this  year  nine  general  battles  were 
fought  against  the  army  in  the  kingdom  south 
of  the  Thames ;  besides  which,  Alfred,  the  king's 
brother,  and  single  aldermen  and  king's  thanes, 
oftentimes  made  attacks  on  them  which  were 
not  numbered,  and  slew  of  them  within  the 
year  one  king  and  nine  earls."  This  was  not 
what  the  Pagans  reckoned  on  ;  they  liked  fight- 

i'her  was  mony  moder  chyld,  that  sone  lay  ther  doune — 
The  batayle  ylaste  vorte-nygt,  and  ther  were  aslawe 
Vyf  dukes  of  Dene-march,  ar  hii  wolde  wyth  drawe, 
And  mony  thousende  of  other  men,  and  tho'  gonne  hii  to  fle ; 
Ac  hii  adde  aUe  ybe  assend,  gyf  the  nyght  n'adde  y  bee. 
Robert  of  Glwler,  p.  263,  apud  Thomas  Hearne.    Ed,  1724." 


72  THE   SCOURING   OF 

ing  very  much  in  reason,  as  an  accompaniment 
of  spoiling  a  country,  and  did  it  well ;  but 
to  be  fighting  nine  pitched  battles  in  a  year, 
hemmed  in  in  one  corner  of  a  rich  kingdom 
(for  they  never  got  farther  than  a  few  miles  into 
Wiltshire),  and  getting  no  spoil  even  there,  was 
not  to  their  taste ;  so  in  the  winter  they  made 
truce  with  Alfred,  and  took  themselves  off  to 
their  old  haunts  in  Mercia  and  Northumbria, 
and  did  not  return  for  five  years. 

This  year,  A.D.  871,  is  a  year  for  Berkshire 
men  to  be  proud  of,  for  on  them  fell  the  brunt 
of  that  fiery  trial ;  and  their  gallant  stand  prob- 
ably saved  England  a  hundred  years  of  Pagan- 
ism. For  had  they  given  way.  at  Ashdown, 
and  the  reinforcements  from  over  the  sea  come 
to  a  conquering,  instead  of  to  a  beaten  army  in 
the  summer,  there  was  nothing  to  stop  the 
Pagans  between  Reading  and  Exeter.  The 
other  eight  battles  were  skirmishes  in  compari- 
son with  this  one ;  they  scarcely  occupy  five 
lines  each  in  the  chroniclers,  and  out  of  the 
king  and  nine  Pagan  earls  who  were  slain 
within  the  year,  six  fell  at  Ashdown.  It  was 
Alfred's  crowning  mercy ;  and  so  he  felt  it  to 
be,  and  in  memory  of  it  he  caused  his  army 


THE   WHITE   HOESE.  73 

(tradition  says,  on  the  day  after  the  battle)  to 
carve  the  White  Horse,  the  standard  of  Hengist, 
on  the  hill-side  just  under  the  Castle,  where  it 
stands  as  you  see  until  this  day. 

"  Thank  you,  Sir,"  said  I,  when  he  paused, 
"what  a  grand  story  it  makes!  And  are  those 
the  real  words  of  the  old  chroniclers,  as  you 
call  them,  Sir,  which  you  used?" 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  almost  every  word  is  simply 
a  translation  from  one  or  other  of  them,  but 
the  greater  part  is  taken  from  the  Chronicle  of 
Asser,  who  was  a  contemporary  and  intimate 
friend  of  Alfred,  and  a  very  learned  and  pious 
ecclesiastic." 

"  I  suppose  they  were,  mostly  priests  and 
monks  who  wrote  the  Chronicles  then,  Sir,  for 
they  don't  read  at  all  like  our  modern  histo- 
ries. They  seem  a  much  more  religious  sort 
of  books." 

"Don't  call  them  religious  books."  said  he, 
"  it  puts  one  in  mind  of  religious  newspapers, — 
the  greatest  curse  of  our  times.  Yes,  people 
sneer  at  the  old  English  chroniclers  now-a-days, 
and  prefer  the  Edda,  and  all  sorts  of  heathen 
to  them ;  but  they  are  great  books,  Sir, 


74  THE   SCOURING   OF 

for  those  who  have  eyes  for  them ;  godly  books 
is  the  name  for  them,  written  by  God-fearing 
men,  who  were  not  ashamed  of  the  faith  which 
was  in  them ; — men  who  believed,  Sir,  that  a 
living  God  was  ruling  in  England,  and  that  in 
his  name  one  of  them  might  defy  a  thousand. 
Your  historians,  now-a-days,  Sir,  believe  that 
Providence  (for  they  dare  not  talk  of  God)  is 
on  the  side  of  the  strongest  battalion.  There's 
some  difference,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it, 
between  the  two  creeds,  Sir." 

The  old  gentleman  looked  at  me  quite  fierce, 
so  I  made  all  the  haste  I  could  to  change  the 
subject. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  very  curious,  Sir,  that 
the  figure  should  have  lasted  all  this  time  ? " 
said  I ;  "  because  you  see,  Sir,  if  you  or  I  were 
to  cut  a  trench,  two  feet  or  so  deep,  up  here, 
on  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  stamp  down  the 
chalk  ever  so  hard,  it  would  be  all  filled  up 
and  grown  over  in  a  few  years." 

"  You  are  not  the  first  person  who  has  made 
that  remark,"  said  he.  "  In  the  year  1738,  an 
antiquary,  of  the  name  of  Francis  Wise,  who 
lived  at  Oxford,  visited  the  hill,  and  wrote  a 
letter  on  the  subject  to  Dr.  Mead,  the  most 


THE    WHITE   HORSE.  75 

learned  antiquary  of  that  day.  First  he  speaks 
of  the  figure  of  the  horse  as  '  being  described 
in  so  masterly  a  manner  that  it  may  defy  the 
painter's  skill  to  give  a  more  exact  description 
of  the  animal.'  " 

"How  could  he  talk  like  that,  Sir?"  said  I; 
"  why  the  figure  isn't  a  bit  like " 

"  You  are  as  bad  as  Carnden,"  said  he,  "  who 
talks  of  '  I  know  not  what  shape  of  a  horse 
fancied  on  the  side  of  a  whitish  hill ;  but  the 
truth  is,  it  is  a  copy  of  the  Saxon  standard, 
which,  of  course,  was  a  rude  affair.  How- 
ever, "Wise,  whom  I  was  telling  you  of,  goes 
on : — 

"  When  I  saw  it,  the  head  had  suffered  a 
little  and  wanted  reparation  ;  and  the  extremi- 
ties of  his  hinder  legs,  from  their  unavoidable 
situation,  have  by  the  fall  of  rains  been  filled 
up  in  some  measure'  with  the  washings  from 
the  upper  parts  ;  so  that,  in  the  nearest  view  of 
him,  the  tail,  which  does  not  suffer  the  same 
inconvenience,  and  has  continued  entire  from 
the  beginning,  seems  longer  than  his  legs.  The 
supplies,  which  nature  is  continually  affording, 
occasion  the  turf  to  crumble  and  fall  off  into 
the  white  trench,  which  in  many  years'  time 


76  THE   SCOURING   OF 

produces  small  specks  of  turf,  and  not  a  little 
obscures  the  brightness  of  the  Horse ;  though 
there  is  no  danger  from  hence  of  the  whole 
figure  being  obliterated,  for  the  inhabitants  have 
a  custom  of  'scouring  the  Horse,'  as  they  call 
it ;  at  which  time  a  solemn  festival  is  celebrated, 
and  manlike  games  with  prizes  exhibited,  which 
no  doubt  had  their  original  in  Saxon  times 
in  memory  of  the  victory."  * 

"  Scouring  the  Horse !  yes,  of  course,"  said 
I,  "  that  is  what  they  are  doing  now,  and  the 
games  are  to  come  off  to-morrow." 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  he,  "  but  you  will  like  to 
hear  how  Wise  goes  on : — 

"  If  ever  the  genius  of  King  Alfred  exerted 
itself  (and  it  never  failed  him  in  his  greatest 
exigencies),  it  did  remarkably  so  upon  account 
of  this  trophy.  The  situation  of  his  affairs 
would  not  permit  him  to  expend  much  time, 
nor  his  circumstances  much  cost,  in  effecting 
one,"  (truly,  for  he  had  six  more  pitched  battles 
to  fight  between  April  and  November.)  "  His 
troops,  though  victorious,  were  harassed  and 
diminished  by  continual  duty  ;  nor  did  the  coun- 

*  Wise's  Letter  to  Dr.  Mead,  "  concerning  some  Antiquities  in 
Berkshire,"  ed.  1,  pp.  25,  26. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  77 

try  afford,  to  any  man's  thinking,  materials 
proper  for  a  work  of  this  kind.  Though  he 
had  not  therefore  the  opportunity  of  raising, 
like  other  conquerors,  a  stupendous  monument 
of  brass  or  marble,  yet  he  has  shown  an  ad- 
mirable contrivance,  in  erecting  one  magnificent 
enough,  though  simple  in  its  design — executed, 
too,  with  little  labour  and  no  expense — that 
may  hereafter  vie  with  the  Pyramids  in  dura- 
tion, and  perhaps  exist  when  these  shall  be  no 
more." 

"  But,  dear  me,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  how  can  the 
White  Horse  vie  with  the  Pyramids  in  dura- 
tion ?  Why,  the  Pyramids  were  built " 

"  Never  mind  when  they  were  built,"  said  he ; 
"  don't  you  see  the  old  antiquary  is  an  enthu- 
siast ?  I  had  hoped  you  were  one  also." 

"  Indeed,  Sir,  I  arn  very  anxious  to  hear  all 
you  can  tell  me,"  said  I,  "  and  I  won't  interrupt 
again." 

"  Well,  as  to  the  scouring,  Wise  says  : — 

"  The  ceremony  of  scouring  the  Horse,  from 
time  immemorial,  has  been  solemnized  by  a 
numerous  concourse  of  people  from  all  the  vil- 
lages round  about,  I  am  informed,  though  the 
Horse  stands  in  the  parish  of  Uffington,  yet 


78  THE   SCOURING    OF 

other  towns  claim,  by  ancient  custom,  a  share 
of  the  duty  upon  this  occasion.  Since,  there- 
fore, this  noble  antiquity  is  now  explained, 
and  consequently  the  reason  of  the  festival,  it 
were  to  be  wished  that,  in  order  to  prevent  for 
the  future  its  falling  into  oblivion,  some  care 
was  taken  of  the  regulation  of  the  games,  and 
that  they  were  restored  to  their  ancient  splen- 
dour, of  which,  without  question,  they  are  fallen 
much  short.  I  know  that  these  rites  are  cavilled 
at  and  maligned  by  the  more  supercilious  part 
of  mankind ;  but  the  dislike  to  them  seems  to 
be  founded  merely  upon  the  abuse  of  them  to 
riot  and  debauchery,  which  I  intend  by  no 
means  to  justify  or  excuse.  The  practice  of 
the  best  and  wisest  states,  whose  maxims  we 
approve  and  profess  to  follow,  is  sufficient  au- 
thority for  their  use.  The  liberty  we  so  justly 
boast,  and  which  ought  to  be  a  common  bless- 
ing to  all,  pleads  loudly  for  them.  The  com- 
mon people,  from  their  daily  labour,  stands  at 
least  in  as  much  need  of  proper  intervals  of 
recreation  as  their  superiors,  who  are  exempt 
from  it,  and  therefore  in  all  free  states  have 
been  indulged  in  sports  most  suited  to  their 
genius  and  capacity.  And  if  manlike  games 


THE   WHITE   HOKSE.  79 

contribute  any  thing  towards  the  support  of  the 
natural  bravery  of  these,  who  are  to  be  our 
bulwark  and  defence  in  times  of  danger,  they 
cannot  be  more  seasonably  revived  than  at  this 
juncture,  when,  through  the  general  luxury  and 
dissoluteness  of  the  age,  there  was  never  more 
likelihood  of  its  being  extinguished.  Besides 
all  this,  from  hence  a  superior  influence  dif- 
fuseth  itself  through  the  better  sort,  who  are 
supposed  to  enter  further  into  the  intention  of 
these  solemnities ;  for  which  reason  it  is,  that 
to  perpetuate  to  posterity  the  remembrance  of 
great  men,  and  of  great  actions,  has  been  al- 
ways recommended,  as  a  proper  incentive  to 
virtue.  Customs  of  very  trifling  import,  some 
ridiculous  in  themselves,  others  owing  to  causes 
equally  ridiculous,  are  oftentimes  kept  up  by 
Englishmen  with  much  zeal  and  tenacity ;  and 
shall  the  greatest  prince  that  this  isle  was  ever 
blessed  with,  and  the  greatest  action  of  that 
prince's  life,  be  in  danger  of  being  forgot, 
through  the  neglect  of  a  solemnity,  the  only 
one,  perhaps,  that  was  ever  instituted,  at  least, 
that  is  now  preserved,  to  his  honour?  " 

*  Wise's  Letter,  p.  31. 


80  THE   SCOURING   OF 

I  didn't  say  a  word  now,  though  he  seemed 
to  have  finished. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  after  a  minute,  "  have  you 
nothing  to  say?  You're  very  glad  that  it's 
over,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No,  Sir,  indeed  I  am  not,"  said  I ;  "  but  I 
am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kindness 
in  telling  me  all  that  you  have." 

"  You  are  a  very  intelligent  young  man,  Sir," 
said  he ;  "  most  young  fellows  of  your  age 
would  have  been  bored  to  death  half-an-hour 
ago,  even  if  they  hadn't  managed  to  run  off 
altogether,  and  so  they  would  have  lost  a  good 
lesson  in  English  history — not  that  they  would 
have  cared  much  for  that  though.  But  now,  I 
dare  say  you  are  getting  hungry.  Let  us  go 
up  and  see  what  they  are  doing  in  the  Castle, 
and  I  shall  be  very  glad  if  you  will  do  me  the 
honour  of  lunching  with  me." 

"  Well,"  thought  I,  as  we  got  up  from  the 
turf,  "  there  are  not  many  better  things  for  get- 
ting a  man  on  than  being  a  good  listener.  Here 
is  a  very  learned  old  gentleman  who  doesn't 
know  my  name,  and  I  have  got  the  length  of 
his  foot,  and  he  has  asked  me  to  luncheon,  just 
because  I  have  been  listening  to  his  old  stories. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  81 

I  wonder  where  the  lunch  is  to  be  though  ?  he 
spoke  of  a  Castle,  perhaps  he  lives  in  it — who 
knows  ?  " 

So  we  strolled  away   together  up   over  the 
brow  of  the  hill. 


82  THE   SCOURING   OF 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  WELL,  here's  the  Castle,  you  see,"  said  he, 
when  we  had  walked  a  few  hundred  yards,  and 
were  come  quite  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 

"  Where,  Sir  ?  "  said  I,  staring  about.  I  had 
half  expected  to  see  an  old  stone  building  with 
a  moat,  and  round  towers  and  battlements,  and 
a  great  flag  flying ;  and  that  the  old  gentleman 
would  have  walked  across  the  drawbridge,  and 
cried  out,  "  What  ho !  warder ! "  and  that  we 
should  have  been  waited  upon  at  lunch  by  an 
old  white-headed  man  in  black  velvet,  with  a 
silver  chain,  and  keys  round  his  waist.  Some- 
how, the  story  of  the  battle,  and  all  the  talk 
about  Pendragon  and  Arthur,  coming  upon  the 
back  of  the  farm-house,  and  the  out  of  the  way 
country  life,  which  was  so  strange  to  me,  had 
carried  me  into  a  sort  of  new  world ;  and  I 
shouldn't  have  been  much  surprised  to  see  a 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  83 

dragon  running  about  the  hill,  though  I  should 
have  been  horribly  frightened. 

"  I  can't  make  up  my  mind  about  this  Cas- 
tle," he  went  on,  without  noticing  me  ;  "  on  two 
sides  it  looks  like  a  regular  Roman  castrum, 
and  Roman  remains  are  found  scattered  about ; 
but  then  the  other  sides  are  clearly  not  Roman. 
The  best  antiquaries  who  have  noticed  it  call  it 
Danish.  On  the  whole,  I  think  it  must  have 
been  seized  and  occupied  in  succession  by  the 
lords  of  the  country  for  the  time  being;  and 
each  successive  occupier  has  left  his  mark  more 
or  less  plainly.  But,  at  any  rate,  you  see  it  is  a 
magnificent  work." 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  no  doubt ; "  though  I 
own  I  was  a  good  deal  disappointed.  For  what 
do  you  think  the  Castle  is  ?  Up  at  the  very  top 
of  the  hill,  above  the  White  Horse,  there  is  a 
great  flat  space,  about  as  big  as  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields,  only  not  the  same  shape,  because  it  is 
only  square  on  two  sides.  All  round  this  space, 
there  is  a  bank  of  earth,  eight  or  ten  feet  high 
in  some  places,  but  lower  at  others.  Then,  out- 
side, there  is  a  great,  broad,  deep  ditch ;  it  must 
be  twenty-five  feet  from  the  top  of  the  inner 
bank  to  the  bottom  of  the  ditch ;  and  outside 


84  THE   SCOURING   OF 

that  again,  is  another  large  bank  of  earth,  from 
the  foot  of  which  the  downs  slope  away  on 
every  side.  But  the  banks  and  ditch  are  all 
grown  over  with  turf,  just  like  the  rest  of  the 
downs,  and  there  isn't  even  a  single  stone,  much 
less  a  tower,  to  be  seen.  There  are  three  en- 
trances cut  through  the  double  banks,  one  on 
the  west,  one  on  the  southeast,  and  the  third  at 
the  northeast  side,  which  was  the  one  through 
which  we  entered. 

But  if  there  were  no  warders  and  seneschals 
and  drawbridges,  there  was  plenty  of  life  in  the 
Castle.  The  whole  place  seemed  full  of  men 
and  women,  and  booths  and  beasts,  and  carts 
and  long  poles ;  and  amongst  them  all  were  the 
Squire  and  Joe,  and  two  or  three  farmers,  who  I 
afterwards  found  out  were  Committee-men,  try- 
ing to  get  things  into  some  sort  of  order.  And 
a  troublesome  job  they  were  having  of  it.  All 
the  ground  was  parcelled  out  for  different  pur- 
poses by  the  Committee,  and  such  parts  as  were 
not  wanted  for  the  sports,  were  let  at  small  rents 
to  any  one  who  wanted  them.  But  nobody 
seemed  to  be  satisfied  with  his  lot.  Here  a  big 
gypsy,  who  wouldn't  pay  any  rent  at  all,  was 
settling  his  cart  and  family,  and  swinging  his 


THE    WHITE   HORSE.  85 

kettle,  on  a  bit  of  ground,  which  the  man  who 
owned  the  pink-eyed  lady  had  paid  for.  There 
a  cheap-Jack  was  hustling  a  toyman  from 
Wantage,  and  getting  all  his  frontage  towards 
the  streets,  (as  they  called  the  broad  spaces 
which  were  to  be  kept  clear  for  the  people  to 
walk  along.)  In  another  place,  a  licensed  pub- 
lican was  taking  the  lot  of  a  travelling  show- 
man into  his  skittle-alley.  Then  there  were  old 
women  who  had  lost  their  donkeys  and  carts, 
and  their  tins  of  nuts  and  sacks  of  apples ;  and 
donkeys  who  had  lost  their  old  women,  standing 
obstinately  in  the  middle  of  the  streets,  and 
getting  in  everybody's  way  ;  and  all  round, 
saws  and  axes  and  hammers  were  going,  and 
booths  and  stalls  were  rising  up. 

I  shouldn't  have  liked  to  have  had  much  to 
do  with  setting  them  all  straight,  and  so  I  told 
Joe,  when  he  came  up  to  us,  after  we  had  been 
looking  on  at  all  the  confusion  for  a  minute  or 
two.  For  most  of  the  men  were  very  rough- 
looking  customers,  like  the  costermongers  about 
Covent  Garden  and  Clare  Market,  and  I  know 
that  those  huckstering,  loafing  blades  are  mostly 
terrible  fellows  to  fight ;  and  there  wasn't  a 
single  policeman  to  look  like  keeping  order. 


86  THE   SCOURING  OF 

But  Joe  made  light  enough  of  it — he  was 
always  such  a  resolute  boy,  and  that's  what 
made  me  admire  him  so — and  said,  "  For  the 
matter  of  that,  if  they  were  ten  times  as  rough 
a  lot,  and  twice  as  many,  the  Squire  and  the 
farmers  and  their  men  would  tackle  them  pretty 
quick,  without  any  blue-coated  chaps  to  help  ! 
Aye,  and  nobody  knows  it  better  than  they,  and 
you'll  see  they'll  be  all  in  nice  order  before  sun- 
down, without  a  blow  struck ;  except  amongst 
themselves,  perhaps,  and  that's  no  matter,  and 
what  they're  used  to.  But  now,  you  come  in," 
said  Joe,  turning  towards  one  of  the  large  pub- 
licans' booths,  which  was  already  finished,  "  the 
Committee  have  got  a  table  here,  and  we  must 
dine,  for  we  shan't  be  home  these  four  hours 
yet,  I  can  see." 

"  Sir,"  said  my  new  friend  to  Joe,  drawing 
himself  up  a  bit,  but  very  politely ;  "  this  gen- 
tleman is  my  guest.  He  has  done  me  the  hon- 
our of  accepting  my  invitation  to  luncheon. 

"  Oh !  beg  pardon,  Sir,  I'm  sure,"  said  Joe, 
staring ;  "  I  didn't  know  that  Dick  had  any 
acquaintance  down  in  these  parts.  Then,"  said 
he  to  me,  "  I  shall  take  my  snack  with  the 
rest  presently ;  you'll  see  me  about  somewhere, 


THE  WHITE   HOUSE.  87 

when  it's  time  to  get  back."  Joe  went  back 
into  the  crowd,  and  I  followed  the  old  gentle- 
man. 

We  went  into  the  booth,  which  was  a  very  big 
one,  made  of  strong,  double  sail-cloth,  stretched 
over  three  rows  of  fir  poles,  the  middle  row 
being,  I  should  say,  sixteen  or  eighteen  feet 
high.  Just  on  our  right,  as  we  entered  from 
the  street,  was  the  bar,  which  was  made  with 
a  double  row  of  eighteen-gallon  casks,  full  of 
ale,  along  the  top  of  which  boards  were  laid,  so 
as  to  make  a  counter.  Behind  the  bar  the  land- 
lord and  landlady,  and  a  barmaid,  wTere  working 
away,  and  getting  every  thing  into  order.  There 
were  more  rows  of  large  casks,  marked  XX  and 
XXX,  ranged  upon  one  another  against  the  side 
of  the  booth,  and  small  casks  of  spirits  hooped 
with  bright  copper,  and  cigar  boxes,  and  a  table 
covered  with  great  joints  of  beef  and  pork,  and 
crockery  and  knives  and  forks,  and  baskets  full 
of  loaves  of  bread,  and  lettuces  and  potatoes. 
It  must  have  cost  a  deal  of  money  to  get  it  all 
up  the  hill,  and  set  the  booth  up.  Beyond  the 
bar  was  a  sort  of  inner  room,  partly  screened 
from  the  rest  of  the  booth  by  a  piece  of  sail- 
cloth, where  a  long  table  was  laid  out  for  lun- 


88  THE  SCOUEING  OF 

cheon,  or  "  nunching,"  as  the  boots,  who  was 
doing  waiter  for  the  occasion,  called  it.  The 
rest  of  the  booth,  except  a  space  before  the  bar 
which  was  kept  clear  for  casual  customers  to 
stand  about  in,  was  set  about  with  rough  tables 
and  forms.  We  got  a  capital  dinner;  for  the 
landlord  knew  my  entertainer,  and  was  very 
civil,  and  brought  us  our  ale  himself  and  poured 
it  out,  making  an  apology  because  it  hadn't  had 
quite  time  to  fine  down,  but  it  would  be  as  clear 
as  a  diamond,  he  said,  if  we  would  please  to 
call  in  to-morrow. 

After  we  had  done,  we  went  round  behind 
the  booth,  where  some  rough  planking  had  been 
put  up  to  serve  for  stalls,  and  the  boots,  in  his 
waiter's  jacket,  brought  out  the  old  gentleman's 
cob. 

"  Peter,"  said  he,  when  he  had  mounted, 
"  here  is  sixpence  for  you  ;  and  now  mind  what 
you  are  at,  and  don't  get  drunk  and  disgrace 
yourself  up  on  the  hill." 

Peter,  who  seemed  to  be  very  much  afraid  of 
the  old  gentleman,  kept  pulling  away  at  his 
forelock,  and  hunching  up  his  shoulders,  till  we 
turned  the  corner  of  the  booth. 

"  Now    I   must   be   riding   home,"    said   my 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  89 

friend,  "  but  if  you  like  just  to  walk  round  with 
me,  I  will  show  you  the  site  of  the  battle." 

So  I  thanked  him,  and  walked  along  by  the 
side  of  his  cob,  and  he  rode  out  of  the  entrance 
we  had  come  in  by,  and  then  round  the  outer 
earthwork  of  the  castle.  As  we  passed  along, 
the  inner  bank  rose  high  up  on  our  right  hand, 
and  we  could  just  see  the  tops  of  the  highest 
booths  above  it. 

"  You  see  what  a  strong  place  it  must  have 
been  before  gunpowder  was  invented,1'  said  the 
old  gentleman  ;  "  and  here,  you  see,  is  the  sec- 
ond entrance ;  and  this  road  which  we  are  upon 
is  the  Ridgeway,  one  of  the  oldest  roads  in  Eng- 
land. How  far  it  once  extended,  or  who  made 
it,  no  man  knows ;  but  you  may  trace  it  away 
there  along  the  ridge  of  the  downs  as  far  as 
you  can  see,  and,  in  fact,  there  are  still  some 
sixty  miles  of  it  left.  But  they  won't  be  left 
long,  I  fear,  Sir,  in  this  age  which  venerates 
nothing." 

"  I  don't  see  much  fear  of  that,  Sir,"  said  I, 
"  after  it  has  lasted  so  long  already." 

"  No  fear,  Sir ! "  said  he,  "  why  miles  of  it 
have  been  ploughed  up  within  my  memory. 
God  meant  these  downs,  Sir,  for  sheepwalks, 


90  THE   SCOURING   OF 

and  so  our  fathers  left  them ;  but  within  the 
last  twenty  years  would-be  wise  men  have 
found  that  they  will  grow  decent  turnips  and 
not  very  bad  oats.  Well,  they  plough  them  up, 
find  two  inches  of  soil  only,  get  one  crop  out 
of  them,  and  spoil  them  for  sheep.  Next  year, 
no  crops.  Then  comes  manure,  manure,  man- 
ure, nothing  but  expense ;  not  a  turnip  will 
trouble  himself  to  grow  bigger  than  a  reddish 
under  a  pennyworth  of  guano  or  bones.  The 
wise  men  grumble  and  swear,  but  the  downs 
are  spoiled." 

"  But  that  will  all  cure  itself  then,  Sir,"  said 
I ;  "  they  won't  plough  up  any  more,  if  it 
doesn't  pay ;  and  then  the  Ridgeway  won't  be 
touched ! " 

"  They  are  all  mad  for  ploughing,  Sir,  these 
blockhead  farmers ;  why,  half  of  them  keep 
their  sheep  standing  on  boards  all  the  year 
round.  They  would  plough  and  grow  man- 
gold-wurzel  on  their  fathers'  graves.  The  Tenth 
Legion,  Sir,  has  probably  marched  along  this 
road ;  Severus  and  Agricola  have  ridden  along 
it,  Sir ;  Augustine's  monks  have  carried  the 
Cross  along  it.  There  is  that  in  that  old 
mound  and  ditch  which  the  best  turnips  and 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  91 

oats  in  the  world  (if  you  could  get  them)  can't 
replace.  There  are  higher  things  in  this  world, 
Sir,  than  indifferent  oats  and  d — d  bad  turnips." 

The  old  gentleman  was  all  in  a  blaze  again ; 
he  brought  down  his  cane  sharply  on  to  the 
cob's  neck,  which  made  him  caper  up  and  jump 
off  along  the  Eidgeway,  and  it  was  a  hundred 
yards  before  they  drew  up.  I  followed,  think- 
ing that  he  couldn't  be  a  clergyman  after  all, 
to  be  swearing  like  that  about  nothing.  When 
I  got  up  to  him,  however,  he  was  quite  cool 
again.  He  had  stopped  just  below  the  western 
entrance  to  the  Castle,  and  the  ground  fell  rap- 
idly in  front  of  us. 

"  Now,  you  can't  have  a  better  point  than 
this,"  said  he ;  "  you  remember  what  I  told 
you  about  the  armies.  The  Danes  held  the 
higher  ground,  that  is,  Uffington  Castle,  up  here, 
behind  us.  Alfred,  with  his  division  of  the 
Saxon  army,  lay  over  there,  in  that  valley  to 
the  left,  where  you  see  the  great  wood  in  the 
middle  of  the  down.  That  is  Ashdown  Park, 
Lord  Craven's  seat,  and  just  on  the  edge  of  it 
there  is  a  circular  earthwork,  which  is  called 
Alfred's  camp.  Aubrey  says  that  in  his  time 
it  was  '  almost  quite  defaced,  by  digging  for 


92  THE  SCOURING   OF 

the  Sarsden  stones  to  build  my  Lord  Craven's 
house  in  the  park ; '  but  you  may  still  find  it 
if  you  look.  Then,  over  there,  on  that  point, 
a  mile  or  more  away  to  the  right,  is  a  camp 
called  Hardwell  Camp,  where  ^Etheh-ed  lay. 
The  crown  of  the  slope  you  see  along  which 
the  Ridgeway  runs,  is  midway  between  the 
Saxon  camps. 

"  In  the  early  spring  morning,  the  low  call 
to  arms  passes  round  the  height ;  the  Danish 
host,  marshalled  behind  the  high  earthworks, 
breaks  over  them,  like  an  overflowing  lake,  and 
rushes  down  the  slope.  Alfred's  division  of  the 
Saxon  army  is  already  on  foot,  and  there  he  sits, 
the  sickly  stripling  on  the  white  horse,  untried 
save  in  one  luckless  fight.  How  will  he  guide 
such  a  battle  ?  See,  his  host  is  in  motion  ; 
scouts  fly  out,  riding  for  life  across  to  ^Ethel- 
red's  camp.  '  Come  up,  my  brother !  the  Pagan 
is  upon  us — while  I  live  they  shall  not  divide 
us — I  will  hold  the  crest  of  the  Ridgeway, 
come  life,  come  death.'  The  vans  are  together 
with  a  wild  shout,  squadron  by  squadron  the 
hosts  close  up,  the  fight  sways  slowly  back- 
wards and  forwards,  the  life's  blood  of  a  brave 
man  pays  for  every  inch  won  or  lost.  The  Sax- 


THE    WHITE   HOESK.  93 

ons  are  but  one  to  three,  the  Pagans  slowly 
overlap  them — are  on  their  flanks.  The  white 
horse  and  his  rider  dash  from  side  to  side,  faster 
and  faster,  as  the  over-matched  Christians  faint, 
reel,  give  back — now  here,  now  there,  along  the 
line.  When  will  the  mass  be  over  ?  Cut  it 
short,  as  thou  art  Saxon  man,  oh  priest !  and 
get  thee  to  sword  and  buckler. 

"At  last  they  come,  ^Ethelred  and  his  host 
— they  are  upon  the  right  flank  of  the  Pagan, 
and  the  fight  is  restored ;  and  with  many  an 
ebb  and  pause,  but  steadily,  through  the  long 
morning  hours,  rolls  up  the  hill  towards  the 
camp  and  the  fatal  thorn." 

"  Is  that  the  old  thorn-tree,  then,  do  you 
think,  Sir?"  said  I,  pointing  to  one  which  was 
growing  by  itself  some  way  off. 

"  I  fear  not,  Sir,  I  fear  not ;  the  '  unica  spi- 
nosa  arbor  '  is  gone.  It  must  have  stood  some- 
where up  here,  on  the  slope  just  below  the 
Castle,  the  stronghold  of  the  Danish  robbers. 
Here  the  grim  Pagan  turns  to  bay  for  the  last 
time.  King  Bsegseeg  lies  dead,  a  hundred 
yards  below;  by  his  side  his  standard-bearer 
and  Earl  Frcena  ;  Halfdene  is  still  unhurt,  but 
near  him  Osbert  totters  under  his  shield  ;  Har- 


94  THE   SCOURING  OF 

old  can  scarce  back  his  charger,  and  the  life- 
blood  trickles  slowly  down  his  leg,  and  falls, 
drop  by  drop,  on  the  trampled  turf,  as  they 
still  make  front  against  .ZEthelred  yonder  — 
there  on  the  right.  But  here,  here  the  field 
must  be  won !  This  way,  you  Saxon  men, 
kings-thane,  and  alderman !  Whoever  hath  stout 
heart  and  whole  body  left. 

"  It  is  the  old  sea-king,  Sidroc,  'the  ancient 
one  of  evil  days;'  mark  him,  as  he  bestrides 
his  black  war-horse,  there  by  the  old  twisted 
thorn.  His  heavy  sword  drips  with  blood,  his 
sword-arm  is  steeped  in  blood  to  the  elbow — 
the  dint  of  long  and  fierce  battle  is  on  horse 
and  man ;  but  the  straight  thin  lips  are  set 
like  flint  in  the  midst  of  that  gray  beard,  and 
the  eyes  glow  and  gleam  under  that  fearful 
brow — eyes  that  have  never  quailed  before  con- 
quering foe,  or  softened  to  the  fallen — lips  that 
have  never  opened  to  say  the  word  '  Spare.'  By 
his  side  the  young  Sidroc,  grim  son  of  grim 
sire.  Ashdown  crows  must  feast  on  those  eyes, 
and  Ashdown  wolves  pick  those  bones,  if  the 
Pagans  are  to  be  beaten  this  day.  Round  them 
rally  the  Danes  as  they  are  driven  up  the  slope. 
Again  and  again  the  advancing  Saxons  reel 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  95 

back  from  the  stunted  thorn,  before  the  shock 
of  the  two  Boersirkir.  He  comes!  it  is  the 
sickly  prince,  the  stripling  on  the  white  horse, 
trampling  fetlock-deep  in  blood.  Round  him  a 
chosen  band  of  yellow-bearded  men  of  Wes- 
sex.  One  moment's  pause,  and  they  meet  in 
a  last  death-grapple.  Bite,  Saxon  blade ;  pierce, 
Saxon  spear !  Think  of  your  homes,  my  coun- 
trymen ;  think  of  the  walls  of  Reading,  of  Ethel- 
wulf  and  his  last  war-cry,  '  Our  commander, 
Christ,  is  braver  than  they  ! '  The  black  horse 
is  down ;  young  Sidroc  springs  over  the  brute, 
lashing  out  in  death  agony,  and  covers  his 
father.  His  head  is  cleft  to  the  chin — a  half- 
armed  gaunt  cowherd  drives  his  spear  through 
the  chest  of  the  old  sea-king.  Away  over  their 
bodies  up  the  hill  go  white  horse,  and  strip- 
ling prince,  and  yellow-bearded  men  ;  rushing 
through  the  camp  gate,  scrambling  over  the 
banks  pell-mell  with  the  flying  Pagan.  The 
camp  is  ours ;  now  slay  while  light  is  left — for 
there  is  no  shelter  for  a  Pagan  between  this  and 
Reading.  '  Then  were  the  horse-hoofs  broken 
by  the  means  of  the  prancings,  of  the  pranc- 
ings  of  their  mighty  ones.  Oh  my  soul,  thou 
hast  trodden  down  strength ! '  " 


96  THE   SCOURING   OF 

The  old  gentleman  stopped  at  last,  and  took 
off  his  hat  and  wiped  his  face,  and  then  looked 
down  at  me  as  if  he  were  half-ashamed — 

"  I  see  you  think  I'm  mad —  "  he  began. 

"  Indeed,  sir — "  said  I,  stammering  a  little. 

"  Well,  well !  never  mind,"  he  said ;  "  the 
fact  is,  I  live  a  good  deal  in  those  old  times. 
I've  been  up  here,  and  sat  and  gone  over  the 
fight  so  often,  that  when  I  get  on  the  hill-side,  I 
think  I  sa\v  it  all.  In  the  autumn  evenings  at 
twilight,  when  the  southwest  wind  blows  wild, 
and  the  mist  comes  drifting  over  the  broad 
downs,  many  a  time,  as  I  have  stolen  down  the 
silent  hill-side,  I  have  seen  the  weird  old  Pagan 
king  and  the  five  earls,  sitting  one  on  each  of 
the  giants'  seats,  and  looking  mournfully  out 
over  the  Vale,  waiting — waiting — waiting  for  a 
thousand  years,  all  but  fourteen.  It's  a  long 
time,  sir,  a  long  time  ;  but  you  and  I  may  have 
to  wait  for  a  longer  over  the  scene  of  some  of 
our  doings.  Who  can  say  ?  " 

I  really  now  did  begin  to  think  the  old  gen- 
tleman a  little  crazy,  so  I  said  nothing.  Pres- 
ently he  went  on  in  his  old  quiet  voice  : — 

"  There,  now  I  have  dismounted  my  hobby, 
and  am  sane  again.  I  live  in  a  wild,  lonely 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  97 

part  of  the  world  down  west,  and  for  the  last 
thirty  years  have  read  little  else  but  the  Bible, 
and  books  200  years  old  and  upwards.  Every 
man  has  his  madness — that's  mine — I  don't  get 
a  chance  of  letting  it  out  once  a-year.  I  have 
spent  a  very  pleasant  day  with  you,  Sir  ;  and  if 
you  ever  come  down  to  these  parts  again,  and 
like  to  come  on  and  see  me,  I  shall  be  very 
glad.  There  is  my  name  and  address ; "  and 
he  gave  me  his  card,  but  he  didn't  say  that  I 
might  publish  it. 

"  Thank  you.  Sir,"  said  I,  putting  it  into  my 
pocket-book ;  "  bat  I  hope  you  will  be  up  on 
the  hill  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  shall  just  ride  up,"  he  said,  "  to  see 
how  they  have  used  my  old  friend ;  he  wanted 
scouring  sadly.  The  games  I  don't  much  care 
about,  though  I'm  glad  they  go  on.  But  not 
one  man  in  a  thousand  who  will  be  on  the  hill 
to-morrow  will  know  what  the  meaning  of  it 
all  is ;  and  that  makes  it  a  melancholy  sight  to 
me,  Sir,  on  the  whole." 

"  But  what  a  pity,"  said  I,  "  that  they  are  not 
told.  It  would  interest  everybody  else,  I'm 
sure,  just  as  it  has  me.  Why  don't  you  tell 
it  then,  Sir,  in  a  book  or  a  newspaper  ?  " 


98  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"  Nobody  would  read  my  old-world  stuff," 
said  he.  "  No  :  a  man  must  understand  and  be 
in  sympathy  with  his  own  generation  to  coax 
it  into  caring  about  an  older  one.  But  now  I 
must  be  going.  If  you  have  time  to  walk 
down  to  that  little  clump  of  trees  over  there, 
towards  ^JEthelred's  camp,  you  will  find  an  old 
Druidical  cromlech  well  worth  examining.  It 
is  called  Wayland  Smith's  cave.  Walter  Scott, 
who  should  have  known  better,  says  that  the 
Danish  king  killed  at  Ashdown  was  buried 
there.  He  was  no  more  buried  there  than  in 
Westminster  Abbey.  Good-bye."  And  so  he 
put  his  cob  into  a  canter,  and  went  off  along 
the  Bidgeway. 

When  he  was  gone  I  walked  down  to  the 
clump  of  trees  and  went-  into  the  cave ;  and 
then  sat  down  on  the  great  flat  stone  which 
covers  it  over,  and  finished  putting  down  all  I 
had  heard  from  the  old  gentleman  ;  and  thought 
what  odd  people  a  man  finds  about  the  world, 
and  how  many  things  there  are  which  one  never 
heard  of  that  other  folk  are  spending  their  lives 
over.  Then  I  went  up  to  the  camp  again  to 
find  Joe,  for  the  afternoon  was  getting  on. 
True  enough,  as  he  had  said,  when  I  got  back 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  99 

there  I  found  it  all  getting  into  order.  All 
along  the  north  side  were  the  theatres  and  peep- 
shows,  and  acrobats,  and  the  pink-eyed  lady, 
and  the  other  shows.  On  the  west  side  were 
the  publicans'  booths,  some  of  them  all  ready, 
and  others  half  up,  but  all  with  their  places  set- 
tled ;  and  the  great  street  of  huckters'  stalls  and 
cheap-Jacks  was  all  set  out  along  the  south 
side,  and  as  more  and  more  of  them  came  up 
they  went  off  to  the  end  of  the  line  and  pitched 
regularly.  The  gypsies  and  people  with  no 
regular  business  were  all  got  away  into  a  cor- 
ner, behind  the  stalls.  On  the  west  side  the 
county  police  were  pitching  their  large  tent 
close  away  by  the  bank,  out  of  the  way  of 
everybody ;  and,  some  wray  in  front  of  them, 
Lord  Craven's  people  had  put  up  two  military- 
looking  tents  which  I  heard  had  belonged  to 
the  42d  Regiment,  with  a  great  flagstaff  close 
by  them.  About  the  middle  of  the  camp  stood 
a  large  stage  about  six  feet  high,  roped  round 
for  the  backswording  and  wrestling.  There 
was  plenty  of  room  now,  and  all  the  people, 
who  were  not  working  at  the  booths  and  stalls, 
were  sitting  about  boiling  kettles  and  getting 


100  THE   SCOURING  OF 

their  food.  It  was  a  very  cheerful,  pretty  sight, 
up  there  out  of  the  way  of  every  thing. 

I  soon  found  Joe  amongst  a  group  of  farmers 
and  one  or  two  young  gentlemen,  some  on 
horseback  and  some  on  foot,  standing  round  the 
Squire.  They  were  talking  over  the  arrange- 
ments before  going  home ;  and  I  stood  a  little 
way  off,  so  as  not  to  interrupt  them  or  to  seem 
to  be  pushing  myself  into  their  company. 

"  Now  I  think  we  have  done  all  we  can 
to-day,"  said  the  Squire,  gathering  up  his  reins ; 
"  but  some  of  us  must  be  up  early  to-morrow  to 
get  the  lists  made,  and  settle  every  thing  about 
the  games." 

«  About  ten  o'clock,  Sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  will  do  capitally.  Now  I  shall 
just  go  and  see  how  they  have  done  the 
Horse." 

So  he  rode  out  of  the  camp,  and  we  all  fol- 
lowed over  the  brow  of  the  hill  till  we  came  to 
a  good  point  for  seeing  the  figure,  which  looked 
as  bright  and  clean  as  a  new  sixpence. 

"  I  think  he'll  do  very  well,"  said  the  Squire. 

"  Listen  to  the  scourers,"  said  one  of  the 
young  gentlemen. 

They  had  finished  their  work,  and  were  sit- 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  101 

ting  in  a  group  round  a  large  can  of  beer  which 
the  Squire  had  sent  down  to  them ;  and  one  of 
them  was  singing  a  rumbling  sort  of  ditty,  with 
a  tol-de-rol  chorus,  in  which  the  rest  joined 
lazily. 

One  of  these  young  gentlemen  gave  me  what 
he  said  were  the  words  they  were  singing,  after- 
wards, when  I  came  to  know  him  (as  you  will 
hear  in  the  next  chapter) ;  and  it  seems  he 
had  found  out  that  I  was  collecting  all  I  could 
about  the  Horse.  But  I  don't  quite  know 
whether  he  wasn't  cutting  his  jokes  upon  me, 
for  he  is  "  amazin'  found  of  fun,"  as  Joe  said ; 
and  for  my  part,  I  could  never  quite  tell,  when 
I  was  with  him,  whether  he  was  in  jest  or 
earnest.  However,  here  are  the  words  he  gave 
me : — 

BALLAD  OF  THE  SCOURING  OF  THE  WHITE  HORSE. 


The  owld  White  Harse  wants  zettin  to  rights 
And  the  Squire  hev  promised  good  cheer, 

Zo  we'll  gee  un  a  scrape  to  kip  un  in  zhape, 
And  a'll  last  for  many  a  year. 


A  was  made  a  lang  lang  time  ago 
Wi  a  good  dale  o'  labour  and  pains, 


102  THE  SCOURING   OF 

By  King  Alferd  the  Great  when  he  spwiled  their  consate 
And  caddled,*  thay  wosbirdsf  the  Danes. 


The  Bleawin  Stwun  in  days  gone  by 
Wur  King  Alfred's  bugle  harn, 

And  the  tharnin  tree  you  med  plainly  zee 
As  is  called  King  Alferd's  tharn. 


There'll  be  backs-word  play,  and  climmin  the  powl, 

And  a  race  for  a  peg,  and  a  cheese, 
And  us  thenks  as  hisn's  a  dummelli  zowl 

As  dwont  care  for  zich  spwoorts  as  theze. 

When  we  had  done  looking  at  the  Horse, 
some  went  one  way  and  some  another,  and 
Joe  and  I  down  the  hill  to  the  Swan  Inn, 
where  we  got  the  trap  and  started  away  for 
Elm  Close. 

"  Why,  Dick,  how  did  you  manage  to  pick 
up  the  old  gentleman  who  was  treating  you 
at  dinner  ? "  said  Joe  ;  "  I  suppose  he's  one  of 
your  London  folk." 

"  'Twas  he  who  picked  me  up,"  said  I,  "  for 
I  never  set  eyes  on  him  before.  But  I  can  tell 

#  "Caddie" — to  worry:  from  cad,  strife. — The  Berkshire  scholi- 
ast suggests  that  the  modern  "  cad,"  having  regard  to  the  peculiari- 
ties of  the  class,  must  be  the  same  word. 

t  "  Wosbird,"  bird  of  woe,  of  evil  omen. 

}  "  Dummell,"  dull,  stupid. 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  103 

you  he  is  a  very  learned  party,  and  very  kind 
too.  He  told  me  all  about  the  battle  of  Ash- 
down,  and  ever  so  many  more  old  stories.  I 
should  think  he  must  have  been  two  hours 
and  more  telling  them." 

"  Sooner  you  than  I,"  said  Joe.  "  Well,  I 
thought  I  knew  his  face.  He  must  be  the  old 
gent  as  was  poking  about  our  parish  last  fall, 
and  sort  of  walking  the  bounds.  Though  there 
isn't  any  call  for  that,  I'm  sure,  for  we  walk 
the  bounds  ourselves  every  year.  The  men  as 
he  hired  told  me  he  was  looking  after  some  old 
stone,  the  play  stone  I  think  he  called  it,  and 
would  have  it  he  knew  more  about  the  names 
of  the  fields,  and  why  they  were  called  so,  than 
they  as  had  lived  there  all  then*  lives.  How- 
ever, he  stood  'em  something  handsome  for 
their  trouble.  I  expect  he  isn't  quite  right  up 
here,"  said  he,  touching  his  forehead  and  look- 
ing at  me. 

"  Just  as  right  as  you,"  said  I,  "  and  I've  no 
doubt  he  does  know  more  about  your  parish 
than  all  of  you  put  together.  I  think  he  must 
be  some  great  antiquary." 

"  Ah !  that's  wrhat  the  Squire  said  when  I 
told  him.  A  great  angular  Saxon  scholar  he 
called  him." 


104  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"  Anglo-Saxon,  Joe,"  said  I,  "  not  angular." 

"  Well,  Anglo  or  angular,  it's  no  odds,"  said 
Joe ;  "  I  calls  it  angular — that's  good  English 
at  any  rate." 

"  But,  Joe,"  said  I,  "  I've  taken  down  all  he 
said,  and  should  like  to  read  it  to  you.  I'm 
sure  it  would  interest  you." 

"  Well,  after  supper  to-night,  over  a  pipe,  per- 
haps," said  Joe  ;  "  I  ain't  much  of  a  hand  at 
your  old-world  talk,  you  see.  Or,  I'll  tell  you 
what,  you  shaU  read  it  to  Lu ;  she  takes  to 
book-learning  and  all  that  better  than  I." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  indeed  to  read  it  to 
your  sister,"  said  I ;  "  and  I  daresay  she  can 
tell  me  something  more." 

"  May  be,"  said  Joe,  drawing  his  whip  gently 
over  the  mare's  loins ;  and  then  he  began  telling 
me  about  the  talk  he  had  had  with  the  Squire. 

He  seemed  to  have  been  telling  him  all  about 
his  quarrel  at  the  vestry  with  the  other  farmers, 
about  keeping  up  the  parish  roads ;  and  the 
Squire  had  smoothed  him  down,  and  given  him 
some  good  advice  as  to  how  to  get  the  roads 
made  and  the  fences  kept  up  without  losing 
his  temper.  Joe  owned  to  me  that  he  was 
often  falling  out  with  some  of  his  neighbours, 


THE   WHITE  HOKSE.  105 

or  his  hired  men,  when  he  couldn't  get  things 
quite  his  own  way  (for  that's  what  it  came  to, 
and  Joe  is  a  warm -tempered  fellow),  and  that 
lie  would  sooner  come  six  miles  to  get  the 
Squire  to  "  tackle  it,"  than  go  to  any  other  jus- 
tice who  lived  nearer ;  "  for  he  knows  our  ways, 
and  manages  one  way  or  another  to  get  it  out 
all  straight  without  making  a  Sessions  job  of 
it,"  said  Joe,  as  we  drove  up  to  his  gate  ;  and 
though  I  was  looking  out  to  catch  a  sight  of 
Miss  Lucy,  and  hoping  she  might  be  out  in 
the  garden,  I  couldn't  help  allowing  to  myself 
that  perhaps  the  country  mightn't  get  on  so 
much  better  after  all  if  the  unpaid  magistracy 
were  done  away  with. 

Joe  went  off  to  the  stable  to  see  after  his 
precious  chestnut,  and  seemed  to  pity  me  be- 
cause I  didn't  go  with  him.  But  I  was  off 
round  the  house  and  into  the  garden,  to  try 
and  find  Miss  Lucy.  When  I  did  find  her 
though,  I  wasn't  quite  pleased  at  first,  as  you 
may  fancy  when  you  hear  what  she  was  doing. 

There  is  a  trellis-work  about  eight  feet  high, 
between  the  little  flower-garden  and  the  kitchen- 
garden,  and  in  it  a  wicket-gate,  through  which 
runs  a  nice  green  walk  by  which  you  get  from 


106  THE   SCOURING   OF 

one  to  the  other.  The  trellis-work  is  so  cov- 
ered with  roses,  and  jessamine,  and  other  creep- 
ers, that  you  can't  see  through,  at  least  not 
in  summer  time ;  and  I  heard  merry  voices 
on  the  other  side,  but  they  couldn't  hear  me 
on  the  turf.  So  I  hurried  up  to  the  wicket- 
gate  ;  and  the  moment  I  got  through,  there  I 
saw  Miss  Lucy,  and  close  by  her  side  a  young 
man  in  a  black  coat,  dark  gray  trousers,  and 
a  white  tie.  He  had  a  great  ribstone-pippin 
apple  in  one  hand,  off  the  best  tree  in  the 
orchard,  out  of  which  he  had  taken  a  great 
bite  or  two,  which  I  thought  rather  vulgar ; 
and  there  he  was,  holding  up  his  bitten  apple 
and  some  of  the  creepers  against  the  trellis- 
work,  with  both  hands  above  Miss  Lucy's  head. 
And  she  stood  there  in  her  pretty  white-straw 
hat,  with  the  ribbons  dangling  loose  over  her 
shoulders,  tying  up  the  creepers  to  the  trellis- 
work  close  to  his  face.  I  could  see,  too,  that 
she  was  very  well  dressed,  for  she  had  on  a 
pretty  embroidered  collar,  as  white  as  snow, 
with  a  nice  bow  of  fresh  pink  ribbon  in  front; 
and  the  sleeves  of  her  gown  were  loose,  and 
fell  back  a  little  as  she  reached  up  with  the 
string  to  tie  the  creepers,  and  showed  her  nice, 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  107 

white,  round  arms,  which  looked  very  pretty, 
only  I  wished  she  had  waited  for  me  to  hold 
up  the  creepers  instead  of  him.  At  her  feet 
lay  a  basket  full  of  apples  and  pears,  and  lav- 
ender and  mignonette ;  so  they  must  have  been 
going  about  together  for  some  time,  picking 
fruit  and  flowers. 

I  stopped  at  the  gate,  and  felt  half  inclined  to 
go  back ;  but  he  said  something  to  her,  and 
then  she  turned  round  and  called  me,  so  I 
walked  up  feeling  rather  sheepish.  By  the 
time  I  got  up  to  them  they  had  finished  tying 
up  the  creeper,  and  she  introduced  me  to  Mr. 
Warton,  of  London.  He  held  out  his  hand, 
and  said  he  had  often  heard  Joseph  speak  of 
me,  and  was  very  glad  to  meet  an  old  friend  of 
his  friend  Hurst.  So  we  shook  hands,  and  he 
began  eating  his  apple  again,  and  she  picked  up 
her  basket,  and  we  walked  together  towards  the 
house ;  but  they  were  so  free  and  pleasant 
together,  and  laughed  and  joked  so,  that  it 
made  me  feel  rather  low,  and  I  couldn't  talk 
easily,  though  I  did  manage  to  say  something 
about  the  White  Horse,  and  how  well  it  looked, 
and  what  a  wonderful  place  it  was  up  on  the 
hill,  when  they  asked  me  about  it. 


108  AHE   SCOURING  OF 

I  wasn't  sorry  when  she  went  in  to  look  after 
the  tea,  and  he  sat  down  to  write  a  letter.  So 
I  went  round  to  the  farm-yard  to  look  for  Joe, 
that  I  might  find  out  from  him  about  this  Mr. 
Warton.  I  found  Joe  with  his  fogger,*  as  he 
called  him,  looking  at  some  calves,  and  thinking 
of  nothing  but  them  and  the  pigs.  However,  I 
stuck  to  him  and  praised  all  the  beasts  just  as 
if  I  knew  all  about  them,  and  so  at  last  got 
him  out  of  the  yard ;  and  then  I  told  him 
there  was  a  Mr.  Warton  come. 

"  No !  is  he  ?  "  said  he ;  "  I'm  so  glad.  I  was. 
afraid  he  couldn't  come  down  as  he  didn't  an- 
swer my  last  letter." 

«  Who  is  he,  Joe  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Haven't  I  told  you  ?  "  said  he  ;  "  why,  he's  a 
parson  up  somewhere  in  London,  and  a  real 
right  sort.  He  was  curate  here  for  five  years 
before  he  went  up  to  town." 

"  He  seems  to  know  you  and  Miss  Lucy  very 
well,"  said  I. 

"  Bless  you,  yes  ! "  said  Joe  ;  "  Lu  was  in  his 
school,  and  he  prepared  her  for  confirmation. 
He's  the  best  company  in  the  world,  and  not 

*  "  Fogger  " — quasi  fodderer — he  who  giveth  fodder  to  the  cattle 
—generally  used  for  the  farmer's  haad  man. 


THE  WHITE   HORSE.  109 

a  bit  proud,  like  some  parsons.  When  he  was 
down  here,  he  used  to  drop  in  of  an  evening 
two  or  three  times  a  week,  and  take  his  tea, 
or  a  bit  of  supper,  just  like  you  might." 

"  He's  a  good  bit  older  than  we,  though," 
said  I. 

"  "Well,  four  or  five  years,  maybe,"  said  Joe, 
looking  rather  surprised  at  me ;  "  I  should  say 
he  was  about  thirty  last  grass,  but  I  never  asked 
him ;  what  does  it  matter  ?  "  and  so  we  got  to 
the  front  door,  and  I  went  up-stairs  to  my  room 
to  wash  my  hands  before  tea.  I  made  myself 
as  smart  as  I  could,  but  I  own  I  didn't  half  like 
the  way  this  Mr.  Warton  went  on.  However, 
I  thought  Miss  Lucy  must  see  he  was  too  old 
for  her. 

As  I  was  dressing,  I  turned  the  matter  over 
with  myself,  how  I  was  to  behave  down  stairs. 
First,  I  thought  I  would  try  to  ride  the  high 
horse,  and  be  silent  and  vexed,  and  make  them 
all  uncomfortable;  but  then,  thought  I,  will 
Miss  Lucy  see  why  I  do  it  ?  It  may  be  all  out 
of  love  for  her,  and  jealousy  of  this  Mr.  War- 
ton  ;  and  they  say  no  young  woman  dislikes  to 
see  men  jealous  about  her.  But  suppose  she 
shouldn't  see  it  in  that  light?  Mightn't  she 


110  THE  SCOURING   OF 

only  think,  perhaps,  that  I  was  a  very  change- 
able and  disagreeable  sort  of  fellow  ?  That 
would  never  do.  Besides,  after  all,  thought  I, 
I'm  down  here  at  Joe's  house,  and  I  owe  it  to 
him  to  be  as  pleasant  as  I  can.  How's  he  to 
know  that  I  am  in  love  with  his  sister  already  ? 
And  this  Mr.  Warton,  too ;  he's  a  clergyman, 
and  seems  a  very  good  sort,  as  Joe  said ;  and 
then  he  has  known  them  all  so  well,  for  so  long ; 
why  am  I  to  give  myself  airs  because  he  likes 
talking  to  Miss  Lucy  ?  So  I  settled  it  in  my 
own  mind  to  go  down  with  a  smiling  face,  and 
to  do  all  I  could  to  make  all  the  rest  happy ; 
and  I  felt  much  better  myself  when  I  had  made 
up  my  mind. 

There  never  was  such  a  tea  and  supper  (for 
we  had  them  both  together  that  night,  as  it  was 
late)  in  the  world ;  and  I  don't  think  I  could 
have  stood  out  five  minutes  if  I  had  gone  down 
in  the  sulks,  as  I  thought  of  doing  at  first.  The 
old  lady,  and  Joe,  and  Miss  Lucy,  were  all  in 
great  spirits  at  getting  Mr.  Warton  down  ;  and 
he  was  just  like  a  boy  home  for  his  holidays. 
He  joked  and  rattled  away  about  every  thing; 
except  when  they  talked  about  any  of  his  old 
parishioners  or  scholars,  and  then  he  was  as 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  Ill 

kind  and  tender  as  a  woman,  and  remembered 
all  their  names,  and  how  many  children  there 
were  in  every  family,  and  the  sort  of  mistakes 
the  boys  and  girls  used  to  make  in  school. 
And  he  drew  Miss  Lucy  out  about  the  school, 
and  Joe  about  the  markets  and  the  labourers, 
and  the  old  lady  about  the  best  way  of  pick- 
ling cabbages,  and  me  about  London  and  my 
work,  and  shorthand,  which  he  managed  to  find 
out  that  I  could  write  in  no  time.  So  we  were 
all  in  the  best  humour  in  the  world,  and  pleased 
with  one  another  and  with  him  ;  and  spent  half 
an  hour  in  praising  him  after  he  had  gone 
up  stairs  to  finish  some  writing  which  he  had 
to  do. 

Then  I  asked  them  about  the  pastime,  and 
what  we  should  see  next  day  on  the  hill.  Miss 
Lucy  began  directly  about  the  stalls  and  the 
sights,  and  the  racing  and  the  music ;  and  cold 
dinner  on  the  hill-side,  and  seeing  all  her  friends 
in  their  best  dresses.  Joe  listened  to  her  for  a 
bit,  and  then  struck  in — 

"  That's  all  very  well  for  you  women,"  said 
he ;  "  but  look  here,  Dick.  If  what  I  hear 
comes  true,  we  shall  have  a  fine  treat  on  the 
stage ;  for  they  tells  me  there's  a  lot  of  the  best 


112  THE   SCOURING   OF 

old  gamesters  in  Somersetshire  coming  up,  to 
put  in  for  the  backsword  prizes." 

"  Then  I'm  sure  I  hope  they  won't  be  allowed 
to  play,"  said  Miss  Lucy. 

"  Not  let  to  play !  "  said  Joe  ;  "  who  put  that 
into  your  head  ?  Why,  there's  the  printed  list 
of  the  sports,  and  X12  prize  for  backswording, 
and  ,£10  for  wrestling." 

"  Well,  it's  a  great  shame,  then,"  said  Miss 
Lucy ;  "  for  all  the  respectable  people  for  miles 
round  will  be  on  the  hill,  and  I  think  the  gentle- 
men ought  to  stop  them." 

"  If  they  do,  they'll  spoil  the  pastime ;  for 
there  won't  be  one  man  in  twenty  up  there 
who'll  care  to  see  any  thing  else.  Eh,  old  fel- 
low ?  "  said  Joe,  turning  to  me. 

"  I  agree  with  Miss  Lucy,"  said  I ;  "  for  I'm 
sure  if  the  women  are  against  these  games, 
they  can't  be  good  for  the  men,  and  ought  to 
be  put  down." 

"  Dick,  you're  a  cockney,  and  know  no  better," 
said  Joe,  giving  me  a  great  spank  on  the  back, 
which  hurt  a  good  deal  and  was  very  disagree- 
able, only  I  didn't  say  any  thing  because  I  knew 
he  meant  it  kindly  ; "  but  as  for  you,  Lucy,  you, 
a  west-country  yeoman's  daughter,  to  talk  like 


THE  WHITE   HORSE.  113 

that !  If  you  don't  take  care,  you  shan't  go  up 
the  hill  to  the  pastime  to-morrow  at  all ;  I'll 
leave  you  at  home  with  mother,"  and  he  shook 
his  great  fist  at  her. 

"  Won't  I  go  up  though  ?  "  said  she,  laugh- 
ing ;  "  we'll  see,  Master  Jee ;  why,  I  can  walk 
up  by  myself,  if  it  comes  to  that ;  besides,  any 
of  the  neighbours  will  give  me  a  lift — or  here's 
]\lr.  Richard,  or  Mr.  Warton.  I'm  sure — " 

"What's  that  you're  saying,  Miss  Lucy? 
What  am  I  to  do,  eh  ?  "  and  the  parson  walked 
in  just  as  I  was  going  to  speak.  I  was  vexed 
at  his  just  coming  in,  and  taking  the  word  out 
of  my  mouth. 

"  Why  I  was  telling  Joe  that  you'll  stop  and 
take  me  up  the  hill,  if  he  leaves  me  behind ; 
won't  you  now,  Mr.  Warton  ?  " 

"  Leave  you  behind,  indeed !  here's  a  pretty 
to  do  ! "  said  he,  laughing.  "  What  in  the 
world  are  you  all  talking  about  ?  " 

"  About  the  wrestling  and  backsword  play," 
struck  in  Joe ;  "  now  she  says — " 

"  Well,  now,  I'll  leave  it  to  Mr.  Warton," 
said  Miss  Lucy,  interrupting  him  ;  "  I  know  he 
won't  say  it's  right  for  men  to  be  fighting  upon 
a  high  stage  before  all  the  country  side." 


114  THE   SCOURING  OF 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  with  your  fighting ! " 
said  Joe  ;  "  you  know,  Sir,  very  well  that  they 
are  old  English  games,  and  we  sets  great  store 
by  them  down  here,  though  some  of  our  folk 
as  ought  to  know  better  does  set  their  faces 
against  them  now-a-days." 

"  Yes,  you  know,  Joe,  that  three  or  four 
clergymen  have  been  preaching  against  them 
only  last  Sunday,"  said  Miss  Lucy. 

"  Then  they  ain't  the  right  sort,  or  they'd 
know  better  what  to  preach  against.  I  don't 
take  all  for  Gospel  that  the  parsons  say,  mind 
you,"  said  Joe. 

Miss  Lucy  looked  shocked,  but  Mr.  Warton 
only  laughed. 

"  Hullo,  Joseph,"  said  he,  "  speaking  evil 
of  your  spiritual  pastors !  However,  I  won't 
say  you're  altogether  wrong.  Parsons  are  but 
men." 

"  But,  Sir,"  said  I,  quite  confidently,  "  I'm 
sure  no  clergyman  can  stand  up  for  fighting 
and  quarrelling." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  he ;  "  but  what  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  Sir,  these  sports,  as  they  call  them, 
are  just  fighting,  and  nothing  else,  and  lead  to 
all  sorts  of  quarrels  and  bad  blood,  and  so—" 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  115 

«  They  don't  lead  to  nothing  of  the  kind," 
shouted  Joe ;  "  and  you  know  nothing  about 
it,  Dick." 

"  Now,  Joe,  at  our  last  feast,"  said  Miss 
Lucy,  "  didn't  Reuben  Yates  get  his  head 
broken,  and  his  arms  all  black  and  blue  at 
backsword  play  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  didn't  you  and  mother  patch  him 
up  with  yards  of  diachylum,  and  give  him  his 
supper  every  night  for  a  week,  to  come  and  be 
doctored  and  lectured  ?  Rube  liked  his  suppers 
well  enough,  and  didn't  mind  the  plastering  and 
lecturing  much ;  but  if  he  don't  go  in  to-mor- 
row for  the  young  gamesters'  prize,  my  name 
ain't  Joe  Hurst." 

"  Then  he'll  be  a  very  ungrateful,  wicked 
fellow,"  said  Miss  Lucy. 

"  And  you  and  mother  won't  give  him  any 
more  suppers  or  diachylum,"  said  Joe  ;  "  but  I 
dare  say  he  won't  break  his  heart  if  you  don't 
give  him  the  preaching  by  itself.  It  does  seem 
to  me  plaguy  hard  that  the  women  won't  let  a 
man  get  his  own  head  broke  quietly,  when  he 
has  a  mind  to  it." 

"  And  there  was  Simon  Withers,  too,"  went 
on  Miss  Lucy,  "  he  sprained  his  ankle  at  the 


116  THE   SCOUEING   OF 

wrestling,  and  was  in  the  house  for  three  weeks, 
and  his  poor  old  mother  nearly  starving." 

"  'Twasn't  at  wrestling,  though,"  said  Joe, 
"  'twas  at  hurdle-racing.  He'd  much  better 
have  been  at  backsword ;  for  a  chap  can  go  to 
work  with  a  broken  head  next  morning,  and 
feel  all  the  better  for  it,  but  he  can't  with  a 
sprained  ankle." 

"  What  does  Mr.  Warton  think  ? "  said  I ; 
for  somehow  he  was  keeping  back,  and  seemed 
a  little  on  Joe's  side,  and  if  he  showed  that,  I 
thought  he  would  lose  ground  with  Miss  Lucy. 

"  Oh !  I'm  sure  Mr.  Warton  is  on  our  side, 
ain't  you,  Sir  ?  Do  teh1  Joe  how  wrong  it  is  of 
him  to  go  on  talking  as  he  does." 

"  No,  no,  Miss  Lucy,  I'm  not  going  to  be 
drawn  into  the  quarrel  as  your  knight ;  you're 
quite  able  to  take  your  own  part,"  said  Mr. 
Warton. 

"  I'm  sure  Mr.  Warton  is  against  us  in  his 
heart,"  said  I  to  Miss  Lucy ;  "  only  he's  a 
clergyman,  and  doesn't  like  to  say  so." 

"  Come,  now,  I  can't  stand  that,"  said  he 
to.  me ;  "  and  you  and  I  must  have  it  out ; 
only  mind,  Miss  Lucy,  you  mustn't  come  in ; 
one  at  a  time  is  enough  for  me." 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  117 

"  I  won't  say  a  word,  Sir,  if  Joe  won't." 

"  Very  well,"  said  he,  "  and  now  let's  get  our 
ground  clear.  Do  you  approve  of  the  other 
sports,  running  matches,  jumping  matches,  and 
all  the  rest  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Sir,  of  course  I  do,"  said  I. 

"  And  you  see  no  harm  in  one  man  beating 
another  in  a  race  for  a  prize  ?  " 

"  No,  Sir,  no  harm  at  all." 

"  Well,  but  I  suppose  one  must  have  activity 
and  endurance  to  win  in  any  of  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  and  good  pluck,  too,  Sir. 
It  takes  as  much  heart,  I'm  sure,  any  day,  to 
win  a  hard  race  as  a  bout  at  backsword." 

"  Very  good,"  said  he.  "  Then  putting  every 
thing  else  aside,  tell  me  which  you  think  the 
best  man,  he  who  doesn't  mind  having  his  head 
broken,  or  he  who  does  ?  " 

"  Well,  Sir,"  said  I,  beginning  to  fence  a  bit, 
for  I  thought  I  saw  what  he  was  driving  at, 
"that  depends  on  circumstances." 

"  No,  no,"  said  he,  "  I  want  a  short  answer. 
We've  nothing  to  do  with  circumstances.  Sup- 
pose there  were  no  circumstances  in  the  world, 
and  only  two  men  with  heads  to  be  broken  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  I  suppose  the  one 


118  THE   SCOURING   OF 

who  doesn't  mind  having  his  head  broken,  must 
be  the  best  man." 

"  Hah,  hah  !  "  laughed  Joe,  "  that  puts  me  in 
mind  of  old  Ben  Thomson  last  feast.  When 
he  threw  up  his  hat  on  the  stage,  he  said  he 
could  get  his  pint  of  beer  any  day  for  tuppence, 
but  it  wasn't  every  day  as  he  could  get  his  pint 
of  beer  and  a  broken  head  too  for  the  same 
money." 

"  Oh,  but  Mr.  Warton — "  broke  in  Miss 
Lucy. 

"  Now,  you  were  not  to  say  a  word,  you 
know,"  said  he. 

"  But  Joe  began,  Sir." 

"  Joseph,  hold  your  tongue." 

"  Very  well,  Sir,"  said  Joe,  grinning. 

"  Then  we  come  to  this,"  said  he  to  me, 
"  a  man  must  have  just  the  same  qualities  to 
win  at  backsword  as  to  win  a  race ;  and  some- 
thing else  besides,  which  is  good  in  itself  ?  " 

"  But,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  that  doesn't  meet  the 
point.  What  I  say  is,  that  backsword  is  a 
game  in  which  men  are  sure  to  lose  their  tem- 
pers and  become  brutal." 

"  But  don't  they  sometimes  lose  their  tempers 
in  races  ?  "  said  he. 


THE  WHITE  HOESE.  119 

"  Yes,  sometimes,  perhaps,"  said  I,  "  but  not 
often." 

"  And  sometimes  they  don't  lose  them  at 
backsword  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Well,  perhaps  not,  Sir." 

"  Then  it  seems  that  all  that  can  be  said 
against  backsword  is,  that  it  is  a  harder  trial 
of  the  temper  than  other  games.  Surely  that's 
no  reason  for  stopping  it,  but  only  for  putting 
it  under  strict  rules.  The  harder  the  trial  the 
better.  I'm  sure  that's  good  English  sense." 

I  didn't  quite  know  what  to  say,  but  Miss 
Lucy  broke  in  again. 

"  Oh,  but  Mr.  Warton,  did  you  ever  see  any 
backsword  play  ?  " 

"  Now,  Miss  Lucy,  that  is  against  law,"  said 
he  ;  "  but  I  don't  mind  answering.  I  never  did, 
and  I  dare  say  your  champion  never  has." 

"No,  Sir,"  said  I;  "but  though  you  may 
have  got  the  best  of  me,  I  don't  believe  you 
really  mean  that  you  think  us  wrong." 

"  Would  you,  really,  Sir,  preach  a  sermon 
now  in  favour  of  backsword  play  and  wrest- 
"ing?"  asked  Miss  Lucy,  with  a  long  face. 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it,  Lucy  ? " 
broke  in  Joe.  "  We're  not  taDdng  about  preach- 


120  THE   SCOURING   OF 

ing  sermons,  but  about  what's  right  for  coun- 
try chaps  to  do  at  pastimes." 

"  Now,  Joseph,  I'm  not  going  to  ride  off  on 
any  hobby  of  yours — besides,  your  sister's  test 
is  right.  Several  of  your  clergy  about  here 
have  preached  against  these  games,  as  was 
their  duty  if  they  had  considered  the  subject 
well,  and  thought  them  wrong.  I  have  never 
thought  much  about  the  matter  till  to-night. 
At  present  I  think  your  clergy  wrong.  If  I 
hold  to  that  belief  I  would  preach  it;  for  I 
hope  I  never  seriously  say  any  thing  in  the 
parlour  which  I  wouldn't  say  in  the  pulpit." 

Just  then,  the  tall  clock  in  the  passage  out- 
side gave  a  sort  of  cluck,  which  meant  half- 
past  nine  o'clock,  and  Joe  jumped  up  and 
opened  the  door  for  the  servants,  and  gave  Mr. 
Warton  the  prayer-book.  And  then  as  soon  as 
ever  prayers  were  over,  he  bustled  his  mother 
and  sister  off  to  bed,  though  I  could  see  that 
Miss  Lucy  wasn't  half  satisfied  in  her  mind 
about  the  backsword  play  and  wrestling,  and 
wanted  to  stay  and  hear  something  more  from 
Mr.  Warton.  But  Joe  is  always  in  a  hurry  for 
his  pipe  when  half-past  nine  strikes,  so  we  all 
had  to  humour  him,  and  Mr.  Warton  and  I  went 
with  him  into  the  kitchen  to  smoke  our  pipes. 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  121 


CHAPTER  V. 

Now  when  we  had  fairly  lighted  up,  and 
Joe  had  mixed  us  a  glass  of  gin  and  water 
a  piece,  I  felt  that  it  was  a  very  good  time  for 
me  to  have  a  talk  about  the  White  Horse  and 
the  scourings.  I  wasn't  quite  satisfied  in  my 
mind  with  all  that  the  old  gentleman  had  told 
me  on  the  hill ;  and,  as  I  felt  sure  that  Mr. 
Warton  was  a  scholar,  and  would  find  out  di- 
rectly if  there  was  any  thing  wrong  in  what  I 
had  taken  down,  I  took  out  my  note-book,  and 
reminded  Joe  that  he  had  promised  to  listen  to 
it  over  his  pipe.  Joe  didn't  half  like  it,  and 
wanted  to  put  the  reading  off,  but  Mr.  Warton 
was  very  good-natured  about  it,  and  said  he 
should  like  to  hear  it — so  it  was  agreed  that  I 
should  go  on,  and  so  I  began.  Joe  soon  was 
dozing,  and  every  now  and  then  woke  up  with 
a  jerk,  and  pretended  he  had  been  listening, 
and  made  some  remark  in  broad  Berkshire.  He 


122  THE   SCOURING   OF 

always  talks  much  broader  when  he  is  excited, 
or  half  asleep,  than  when  he  is  cool  and  has  all 
his  wits  about  him.  But  I  kept  on  steadily  till 
I  had  got  through  it  all,  and  then  Mr.  Warton 
said  he  had  been  very  much  interested,  and 
believed  that  all  I  had  taken  down  was  quite 
correct. 

"  What  put  it  into  your  head,"  said  he,  "  to 
take  so  much  interest  in  the  Horse  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  but  somehow 
I  can't  think  of  any  thing  else  now  I  have 
been  up  there  and  heard  about  the  battle." 
This  wasn't  quite  true,  for  I  thought  more  of 
Miss  Lucy,  but  I  couldn't  tell  him  that. 

"  When  I  was  curate  down  here,  said  he,  "  I 
was  bitten  with  the  same  maggot.  Nothing 
would  serve  me  but  to  find  out  all  I  could 
about  the  Horse.  Now,  Joe  here,  who's  fast 
asleep — " 

"  No,  he  bean't,"  said  Joe  starting,  and  giv- 
ing a  pull  at  his  pipe,  which  had  gone  out. 

"  Well,  then,  Joe  here,  who  is  wide  awake, 
and  the  rest,  who  were  born  within  sight  of 
him,  and  whose  fathers  fought  at  Ashdown,  and 
have  helped  to  scour  him  ever  since,  don't  care 
half  so  much  for  him  as  we  strangers  do." 


THE   WHITE   HOESE.  123 

"  Oh !  I  dwon't  allow  that,  mind  you,"  said 
Joe ;  "  I  dwon't  know  as  I  cares  about  your 
long-tailed  words  and  that ;  but  for  keeping  the 
Horse  in  trim,  and  as  should  be,  why,  I  be 
ready  to  pay — " 

"  Never  mind  how  much,  Joseph." 

Joe  grinned,  and  put  his  pipe  in  his  mouth 
again.  I  think  he  liked  being  interrupted  by 
the  Parson. 

"As  I  was  saying,  I  found  out  ah1  I  could 
about  the  Horse,  though  it  was  little  enough, 
and  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  tell  you  all  I  know." 

"  Then,  Sir,"  said  I,  may  I  ask  you  any  ques- 
tions I  have  a  mind  to  ask  you  about  it  ?." 

"  Certainly,"  said  he ;  "  but  you  mustn't  ex- 
pect to  get  much  out  of  me." 

"  Thank  you,  Sir,"  said  I.  "A  thousand  years 
seems  a  long  time,  Sir,  doesn't  it  ?  Now,  how 
do  we  know  that  the  Horse  has  been  there  all 
that  time  ?  " 

"At  any  rate,"  said  he,  "we  know  that  the 
Hill  has  been  called,  '  White  Horse  Hill,'  and 
the  Vale,  the  'Vale  of  White  Horse,'  ever  since 
the  time  of  Henry  the  First ;  for  there  are  car- 
tularies of  the  Abbey  of  Abingdon  in  the  Brit- 
ish Museum  which  prove  it.  So,  I  think,  we  may 


124  THE   SCOURING   OF 

assume  that  they  were  called  after  the  figure, 
and  that  the  figure  was  there  before  that  time." 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  that.  Sir,"  said  I.  "And 
then  about  the  scourings  and  the  pastime  ? 
They  must  have  been  going  on  ever  since  the 
Horse  was  cut  out  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  said  he.  "  You  have  got 
quotations. there  from  Wise's  letter,  written  in 
1736.  He  says  that  the  scouring  was  an  old 
custom  in  his  time.  Well,  take  his  authority 
for  the  fact  up  to  that  time,  and  I  think  I  can 
put  you  in  the  way  of  finding  out  something, 
though  not  much,  about  most  of  the  Scourings 
which  have  been  held  since." 

And  he  was  as  good  as  his  word  ;  for  he  took 
me  about  after  the  pastime  to  some  old  men  in 
the  neighbouring  parishes,  from  whom  I  found 
out  a  good  deal  that  I  have  put  down  in  this 
chapter.  And  the  Squire,  too,  when  Joe  told 
him  what  I  was  about,  helped  me. 

Now  I  can't  say  that  I  have  found  out  all  the 
Scourings  which  have  been  held  since  1736,  but 
I  did  my  best  to  make  a  correct  list,  and  this 
seems  to  be  the  proper  place  to  set  it  all  down. 

Well,  the  first  Scouring,  which  I  could  find 
out  any  thing  about,  was  held  in  1755,  and  all 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  125 

the  sports  then  seem  to  have  been  pretty  much 
the  same  as  those  of  the  present  day.  But 
there  was  one  thing  which  happened  which 
could  not  very  well  have  happened  now.  A 
fine  dashing  fellow,  dressed  like  a  gentleman, 
got  on  to  the  stage,  held  his  own  against  all  the 
old  gamesters,  and  in  the  end  won  the  chief 
prize  for  backsword-play,  or  cudgel-play,  as 
they  used  to  call  it. 

While  the  play  was  going  on  there  was  plenty 
of  talk  as  to  who  this  man  could  be,  and  some 
people  thought  they  knew  his  face.  As  soon  as 
he  had  got  the  prize  he  jumped  on  his  horse, 
and  rode  off.  Presently,  first  one,  and  then  an- 
other, said  it  was  Tim  Gibbons,  of  Lambourn, 
who  had  not  been  seen  for  some  years,  though 
strange  stories  had  been  afloat  about  him. 

It  was  the  Squire  who  told  me  the  story 
about  Tim  Gibbons ;  but  he  took  me  to  see  an 
old  man  who  was  a  descendant  of  Tim's,  and 
so  I  think  I  had  better  give  his  own  account  of 
his  ancestor  and  his  doings.  We  found  the  old 
gentleman,  a  hale,  sturdy  old  fellow,  working 
away  in  a  field  at  Woolstone,  and,  as  near  as  I 
could  get  it,  this  was  what  he  had  to  say  about 
the  Scouring  of  1755  : — 


126  THE   SCOURING  OF 

Squire.  "  Good  morning,  Thomas.  How 
about  the  weather?  Did  the  White  Horse 
smoke  his  pipe  this  morning?" 

Thos.  "  Mornin',  Sir.  I  didn't  zee  as  'a  did. 
I  allus  notices  he  doos  it  when  the  wind  blaws 
moor  to  th'  east'ard.  I  d'wont  bode  no  rain  to 
day,  Sir." 

Squire.  "  How  old  are  you,  Thomas  ?  " 

Thos.  "  Seventy  year  old  this  Christmas,  Sir. 
I  wur  barn  at  Woolstone,  in  the  hard  winter, 
when  I've  heard  tell  as  volks  had  to  bwile  their 
kettles  wi'  the  snaw." 

Squire.  "  I  want  to  know  something  about 
your  family,  Thomas." 

Thos.  "  Well,  Sir,  I  bean't  no  ways  ashamed 
of  my  family,  I  can  assure  'ee.  I've  a  got  two 
zons,  and  vour  daaters.  One  on  'em,  that's  my 
oldest  bwoy,  Sir,  wur  all  droo'  the  Crimee  wars, 
and  never  got  a  scratch.  In  the  Granadier 
Guards,  Sir,  he  be.  A  uncommon  sprack  * 
chap,  Sir,  though  I  says  it,  and  as  bowld  as  a 
lion  ;  only  while  he  wur  about  our  village  wi' 
t'other  young  chaps,  he  must  allus  be  a  fighting. 
But  not  a  bad-tempered  chap,  Sir,  I  assure  'ee. 
Then,  Sir—" 

*  "  Sprack," — sprightly. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  127 

Squire.  "  But,  Thomas,  I  want  to  know 
about  those  that  came  before  you.  What  re- 
lation was  Timothy  Gibbons,  whom  I've  heard 
folks  talk  about,  to  you  ?  " 

"  Thos.  "  I  suppose  as  you  means  my  great- 
grandvather,  Sir." 

Squire.  "  Perhaps  so,  Thomas.  Where  did 
he  live,  and  what  trade  did  he  follow  ?  " 

Thos.  "  I'll  tell  'ee,  Sir,  all  as  I  knows ;  but 
somehow,  vather  and  mother  didn't  seem  to  like 
to  talk  to  we  bwoys  about  'un." 

Squire.  "  Thank  'ee,  Thomas.  Mind,  if  he 
went  wrong  it's  all  the  more  credit  to  you,  who 
have  gone  straight ;  for  there  isn't  a  more  hon- 
est man  in  the  next  five  parishes." 

Thos.  "  I  knows  your  meanings  good,  and 
thank  'ee  kindly,  Sir,  tho'  I  be  no  schollard. 
Well,  Timothy  Gibbons,  my  great  grandvather, 
you  see,  Sir,  foller'd  blacksmithing  at  Lam- 
bourn,  till  he  took  to  highway  robbin',  but  I 
can't  give  'ee  no  account  o'  when  or  wher.' 
Arter  he'd  been  out,  may  be  dree  or  vour  year, 
he  and  two  companions  cum  to  Baydon  ;  and 
whilst  hiding  theirselves  and  baiting  their  hosses 
in  a  barn,  the  constables  got  ropes  round  the  barn- 
yard and  lined  'em  in.  Then  all  dree  drawed 


128  THE   SCOURING    OF 

cuts  *  who  was  to  go  out  fust  and  face  the 
constables.  It  fell  to  Tim's  two  companions 
to  go  fust,  but  their  hearts  failed  'em,  and 
they  wouldn't  go.  So  Tim  cried  out  as  '  he'd 
she-Cv  'em  what  a  Englishman  could  do,'  and 
mounted  his  hos  and  drawed  his  cutlash,  and 
cut  their  lines  a-two,  and  galloped  off  clean 
away ;  but  I  understood  as  t'other  two  was 
took.  Arter  that,  may  be  a  year  or  two,  he 
cum  down  to  a  pastime  on  White  Hos  Hill, 
and  won  the  prize  at  backswording ;  and  when 
he  took  his  money,  fearing  lest  he  should  be 
knowed,  he  jumped  on  his  hos  under  the  stage, 
and  galloped  right  off,  and  I  don't  know  as  he 
ever  cum  again  to  these  parts.  Then  I've  un- 
derstood as  things  throve  wi'  'un,  as  'urn  will  at 
times,  Sir,  wi'  thay  sort  o'  chaps,  and  he  and 
his  companions  built  the  Inii  called  'the  Mag- 
pies,' on  Hounslow  Heath ;  but  I  dwon't  know 
as  ever  he  kep'  the  house  hisself,  except  it  med 
ha'  been  for  a  short  while.  Howsomever,  at 
last  he  was  took  drinking  at  a  public-house, 
someweres  up  Hounslow  way,  wi'  a  companion 
who  played  a  cross  wi'  'un,  and  I  b'live  'a  was 
hanged  at  Newgate.  But  I  never  understood 

*  "  Draw  cuts," — to  draw  lots. 


THE    WHITE  HOKSE.  129 

as  he  killed  any  body,  Sir,  and  a'd  used  to  gie 
some  o'  the  money  as  he  took  to  the  poor,  if  he 
knowed  they  was  in  want." 

Squire.  "  Thank'ee,  Thomas.  What  a  pity 
he  didn't  go  soldiering ;  he  might  have  made  a 
fine  fellow  then !  " 

Thos.  "Well,  Sir,  so  t'wur,  I  thinks.  Our 
fam'ly  be  given  to  that  sort  o'  thing.  I  wur  a 
good  hand  at  elbow  and  collar  wrastling  myself, 
afore  I  got  married ;  but  then  I  gied  up  all  that, 
and  ha'  stuck  to  work  ever  sence." 

Squire.  "  Well,  Thomas,  you've  given  me 
the  story  I  wanted  to  hear,  so  it's  fair  I  should 
give  you  a  Sunday  dinner." 

Thos.  "  Lord  love  'ee,  Sir,  I  never  meant 
nothin'  o'  that  sort;  our  fam'ly" — 

We  were  half-way  across  the  field,  when  I 
looked  round,  and  saw  old  Thomas  still  looking 
after  us  and  holding  the  Squire's  silver  in  his 
hand,  evidently  not  comfortable  in  his  mind  at 
having  failed  in  telling  us  all  he  had  to  say 
about  his  fam'ly,  of  which  he  seemed  as  proud 
as  any  duke  can  be  of  his,  and  I  dare  say  has 
more  reason  for  his  pride  than  many  of  them. 
At  last,  however,  as  we  got  over  the  stile,  he 
pocketed  the  affront  and  went  on  with  his  work. 

6* 


130  THE   SCOURING   OF 

I  could  find  out  nothing  whatever  about  the 
next  Scouring ;  but  I  was  lucky  enough  to  get 
the  printed  hand-bill  which  was  published  before 
the  one  in  1776,  which  I  made  out  to  be  the 
next  but  one  after  that  at  which  Tim  Gibbons 
played. 

When  I  showed  this  old  hand-bill  to  the  Par- 
son he  was  very  much  tickled.  He  took  up  the 
one  which  the  Committee  put  out  this  last  time, 
and  looked  at  them  together  for  a  minute,  and 
then  tossed  them  across  to  me. 

"  What  a  queer  contrast,"  said  he,  "  between 
those  two  bills." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  Sir  ?  "  said  I ;  "  why 
the  games  seem  to  be  nearly  the  same." 

"  So  they  are,"  said  he ;  "  but  look  at  the 
prizes.  Our  great  grandfathers,  you'll  see,  gave 
no  money  prizes  ;  we  scarcely  any  others.  The 
gold-laced  hat  and  buckskin  breeches  have  gone, 
and  current  coin  of  the  realm  reigns  supreme. 
Then  look  at  the  happy-go-lucky  way  in  which 
the  old  bill  is  put  out.  No  date  given,  no  name 
signed !  who  was  responsible  for  the  breeches, 
or  the  shoe-buckles?  A.nd  then,  what  gram- 
mar !  The  modern  bill,  you  see,  is  in  the  shape 
of  resolutions,  passed  at  a  meeting,  the  chair- 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  *  131 

man's  name  being  appended  as  security  for  the 
prizes." 

"  That  seems  much  better  and  more  business- 
like," said  I. 

"  Then  you  see  the  horserace  for  a  silver  cup 
has  disappeared,"  he  went  on.  "  Epsom  and 
Ascot  have  swallowed  up  the  little  country 
races,  just  as  big  manufacturers  swallow  up 
little  ones,  and  big  shops  whole  streets  of  little 
shops,  and  nothing  but  monsters  flourish  in  this 
age  of  unlimited  competition  and  general  en- 
lightenment. Not  that  I  regret  the  small  coun- 
try town-races,  though." 

"  And  I  see,  Sir,  that  {  smocks  to  be  run  for 
by  ladies,'  is  left  out  in  the  modern  bill." 

"  A  move  in  the  right  direction  there,  at  any 
rate,"  said  he  ;  "  the  bills  ought  to  be  published 
side  by  side."  So  I  took  his  advice,  and  here 
•  they  are  : — 

"WHITE  HOESE  HILL,  PASTIME. 

BERKS,  1776.* 

To  be  held  on  the  occasion  of  tlie 
Scouring  of  the    White   Horse, 

"  The  scowering  and  cleansing        September  ITth  and  18th,  1857. 
of  the  White  Horse  is  fixed  for 

Monday  the  27th  day  of  May ;  oa  At  a  meeting  held  at  the  Craven 
which  day  a  Silver  Cup  will  be  Arms,  Uffington,  on  the  20th  day 

#  This  hand-bill  was  kindly  given  me  by  H.  Godwin,  Esq.,  of 
Newburv. 


132 


THE   SCOURING  OF 


ran  for  near  White  Horse  Hill,  by 
any  horse,  &c.  that  never  run  for 
any  thing,  carrying  11  stone,  the 
best  of  3  two-mile  heats,  to  start 
at  ten  o'clock. 

"  Between  the  heats  will  be  run 
for  by  Poneys,  a  Saddle,  Bridle, 
and  Whip;  the  best  of  three  two- 
mile  heats,  the  winner  of  2  heats 
will  be  entitled  to  the  Saddle,  the. 
second  best  the  Bridle,  and  the 
third  the  Whip. 

"  The  same  time  a  Thill  har- 
ness will  be  run  for  by  Cart- 
horses, &c.  in  their  harness  and 
bells,  the  carters  to  ride  in  smock 
frocks  without  saddles,  crossing 
and  jostling,  but  no  whipping 
allowed. 

"  A  flitch  of  Bacon  to  be  run 
for  by  asses. 

"  A  good  Hat  to  be  run  for  by 
men  in  sacks,  every  man  to  bring 
his  own  sack. 

"  A  Waistcoat,  10s.  6d  value, 
to  be  given  to  the  person  who 
shall  take  a  bullet  out  of  a  tub 
of  flour  with  his  mouth  in  the 
shortest  time. 

"  A  Cheese  to  be  run  for  down 
the  White  Horse  Manger. 

"  Smocks  to  be  run  for  by  la- 
dies, the  second  best  of  each  prize 
to  be  entitled  to  a  Silk  Hat. 

"  Cudgel-playing  for  a  gold-laced 
Hat  and  a  pair  of  buckskin 
Breeches,  and  Wrestling  for  a. 
pair  of  silver  Buckles  and  a  pair 
of  pumps. 

"  The  horses  to  be  on  the  White 
Horse  Hill  by  nine  o'clock. 


of  August,  1857,  the  following  re- 
solutions (amongst  others)  were 
passed  iinanimously : — 

First.  That  a  pastime  be  held 
on  the  White  Horse 
Hill,  on  Thursday  and 
Friday,  the  17th  and 
18th  of  September,  in 
accordance  with  the 
old  custom  at  the  time 
of  "  The  Scouring  of 
the  Horse." 

2dly.  That  E.  Martin  Atkins, 
Esq.  of  Kingston  Lisle, 
be  appointed  Treas- 
urer. 

3dly.  That  prizes  be  awarded 
for  the  following  games 
and  sports,  That  is  to 
say — 

Backsword  (Old  gamesters,     £8. 
Play.      |  Young  gamesters, £4. 

Wrestling.    Old  Samesters»     ^' 
|  Young  gamesters, £4. 

A  jingling  match. 
Foot  races. 
Hurdle  races. 

Race  of  cart-horses  in  Thill  har- 
ness (for  a  new  set  of  harness). 
Donkey  race(for  a  flitch  of  bacon). 
Climbing  pole  (for  a  leg  of  mut- 
ton). 

Races  down  "  the  Manger,"   (for 
cheeses.) 

A  pig  will  be  turned  out  on  the 
clown,  to  be  the  prize  of  the  man 
who  catches  him  (under  certain 
regulations);  and  further  prizes 
will  be  awarded  for  other  games 
and  sports  as  the  funds  will  allow. 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  133 

"  No  less  than  four  horses,  &c.  4thly.   That   no   person    be 

or  asses,  to  start  for  any  of  the  allowed  to  put  up  or 

above  prizes."  use  a  stall  or  booth  on 

the  ground,  without 
the  previous  sanction 
of  Mr.  Sptickman, 
of  Bridgecombe  Farm, 
[the  occupier,]  who  is 
hereby  authorized  to 
make  terms  with  any 
person  wishing  to  put 
up  a  stall  or  booth. 
Signed,  E.  MARTIN  ATKINS, 

Chairman. 

Then  came  a  Scouring  on  Whit- Monday, 
May  15,  1780,  and  of  the  doings  on  that 
occasion,  there  is  the  following  notice  in  the 
"Reading  Mercury"  of  May  22,  1780:— 

"  The  ceremony  of  scowering  and  cleansing 
that  noble  monument  of  Saxon  antiquity,  the 
White  Horse,  was  celebrated  on  Whit-Monday, 
with  great  joyous  festivity.  Besides  the  cus- 
tomary diversions  of  horseracing,  foot-races, 
&c.  many  uncommon  rural  diversions  and  feats 
of  activity  were  exhibited  to  a  greater  number 
of  spectators  than  ever  assembled  on  any  for- 
mer occasion.  Upwards  of  thirty  thousand  per- 
sons were  present,  and  amongst  them  most  of 
the  nobility  and  gentry  of  this  and  the  neigh- 
bouring counties  ;  and  the  whole  was  con- 
cluded without  any  material  accident.  The 


134  THE  SCOURING   OF 

origin  of  this  remarkable  piece  of  antiquity  is 
variously  related ;  but  most  authors  describe  it 
as  a  monument  to  perpetuate  some  signal  vic- 
tory, gained  near  the  spot,  by  some  of  our  most 
ancient  Saxon  princes.  The  space  occupied  by 
this  figure  is  more  than  an  acre  of  ground." 

I  also  managed  to  get  a  list  of  the  games, 
which  is  just  the  same  as  the  one  of  1776, 
except  that  in  addition  there  was  "  a  jingling- 
match  by  eleven  blindfolded  men,  and  one  un- 
masked and  hung  with  bells,  for  a  pair  of  buck- 
skin breeches." 

The  Parson  found  an  old  man,  William 
Townsend  by  name,  a  carpenter  at  Woolstone, 
whose  father,  one  Warman  Townsend,  had  run 
down  the  manger  after  the  fore-wheel  of  a 
wagon,  and  won  the  cheese  at  this  Scouring. 
He  told  us  the  story  as  his  father  had  told  it 
to  him,  how  that  "  eleven  on  'em  started,  and 
amongst  'em  a  sweep  chimley  and  a  millurd ; 
and  the  millurd  tripped  up  the  sweep  chimley 
and  made  the  zoot  flee  a  good  'un;"  and  how 
'.'  the  wheel  ran  pretty  nigh  down  to  the  springs 
that  time,"  which  last  statement  the  Parson 
seemed  to  think  couldn't  be  true.  But  old 
Townsend  knew  nothing  about  the  other  sports. 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  135 

Then  the  next  Scouring  was  held  in  1785,  and 
the  Parson  found  several  old  men  who  could 
remember  it  when  they  were  very  little.  The 
one  who  was  most  communicative  was  old 
William  Ayres  of  Uffington,  a  very  dry  old 
gentleman,  about  eighty-four  years  old : — 

"  When  I  wur  a  bwoy  about  ten  years  old," 
said  he,  "  I  remembers  I  went  up  White  Hoss 
Hill  wi'  my  vather  to  a  pastime.  Vather'd 
brewed  a  barrel  o'  beer  to  sell  on  the  Hill — a 
deal  better  times  then  than  now,  Sir ! " 

"  Why,  William  ?  "  said  the  Parson. 

"  Augh  !  bless'ee,  Sir,  a  man  medn't  brew  and 
sell  his  own  beer  now ;  and  oftentimes  he  can't 
get  nothin'  fit  to  drink  at  thaay  little  beer-houses 
as  is  licensed,  nor  at  some  o'  the  public-houses 
too  for  that  matter.  But  'twur  not  only  for 
that  as  the  times  wur  better  then,  you  see, 
Sir " 

"  But  about  the  sports,  William  ?  " 

"  Ees  Sir,  I  wur  gandering  sure  enough," 
said  the  old  man  ;  "  well  now,  there  wur  Varrner 
Mifflin's  mare  run  for  and  won  a  new  cart  sad- 
dle and  thill-tugs — the  mare's  name  wur  Duke. 
As  many  as  a  dozen  or  moor  horses  run,  and 
they  started  from  Idle's  Bush,  which  wur  a  vine 


136  THE  SCOURING   OF 

owld  tharnin'-tree  in  thay  days — a  very  nice 
bush.  They  started  from  Idle's  Bush,  as  I  tell 
'ee,  Sir,  and  raced  up  to  the  Rudge-waay;  and 
Varmer  Mifflin's  mare  had  it  all  one  way,  and 
beat  all  the  t'other  on  'um  holler.  The  pas- 
time then  wur  a  good  'un — a  wunderful  sight 
o'  volk  of  all  sorts,  rich  and  poor.  John  Morse 
of  Uffington,  a  queerish  sort  of  a  man,  grinned 
agin  another  chap  droo'  hos  collars,  but  John 
got  beaat — a  fine  bit  of  spwoort  to  be  shure, 
Sir,  and  made  the  folks  laaf.  Another  geaam 
wur  to  bowl  a  cheese  down  the  Mainger,  and 
the  first  as  could  catch  'un  had  'un.  The  cheese 
was  a  tough  'un  and  held  together." 

"  Nonsense,  William,  that's  impossible,"  broke 
in  the  Parson. 

"  Augh  Sir,  but  a  did  though,  I  assure  'ee," 
persisted  William  Ayres,  "  but  thaay  as  tasted 
'un  said  a  warn't  very  capital  arter  all." 

"  I  daresay,"  said  the  Parson,  "  for  he  couldn't 
have  been  made  of  any  thing  less  tough  than 
ash  pole." 

"  Hah,  hah,  hah,"  chuckled  the  old  man,  and 
went  on. 

"  There  wur  running  for  a  peg  too,  and  they 
as  could  ketch  'un  and  hang  'un  up  by  the  tayl, 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  137 

had  'un.  The  girls,  too,  run  races  for  smocks — 
a  deal  of  pastime,  to  be  sure,  Sir.  There  wur 
climmin'  a  grasy  pole  for  a  leg  of  mutton,  too ; 
and  backsoordin',  and  wrastlin',  and  all  that, 
ye  knows,  Sir.  A  man  by  the  name  of  Black- 
ford,  from  the  low  countries,  Zummersetshire, 
or  that  waay  some  weres,  he  won  the  prize, 
and  wur  counted  the  best  hand  for  years  arter, 
and  no  man  couldn't  break  his  yead ;  but  at 
last,  nigh  about  twenty  years  arter,  I'll  warn* 
'twur — at  Shrin'um  Revel,  Harry  Stanley,  the 
landlord  of  the  Blawin'  Stwun,  broke  his  yead, 
and  the  low-country  men  seemed  afeard  o' 
Harry  round  about  here  for  long  arter  that. 
Varmer  Small-bwones  of  Sparsholt,  a  mazin' 
stout  man,  and  one  as  scarce  no  wun  go  where 
'a  would  could  drow  down,  beaat  all  the  low- 
country  chaps  at  wrastlin',  and  none  could  stan' 
agean  'un.  And  so  he  got  the  neam  o'  Varmer 
Greaat  Bwones.  'Twur  only  when  he  got  a 
drap  o'  beer  a  leetle  too  zoon,  as  he  wur  ever 
drowed  at  wrastlin',  but  they  never  drowed  'un 
twice,  and  he  had  the  best  men  come  agean  'un 
for  miles.  This  wur  the  first  pastime  as  I  well 
remembers,  but  there  med  ha'  been  some  afore, 

*  "  Warn," — contraction  of  the  word  "  warrant." 


138  THE   SCOURING   OF 

for  all  as  I  knows.  I  ha'  got  a  good  memo- 
randum, Sir,  and  minds  things  well  when  I 
wur  a  bwoy,  that  I  does.  I  ha'  helped  to  dress 
the  White  Hoss  myself,  and  a  deal  o'  work 
'tis  to  do't  as  should  be,  I  can  asshure  'ee,  Sir. 
About  Claay  Hill,  'twixt  Fairford  and  Ziziter, 
I've  many  a  time  looked  back  at  'un,  and  'a 
looks  as  nat'ral  as  a  pictur,  Sir." 

Between  1785  and  1803  there  must  have 
been  at  least  two  Scourings,  but  somehow 
none  of  the  old  men  could  remember  the 
exact  years,  and  they  seemed  to  confuse  them 
with  those  that  came  later  on,  and  though  I 
looked  for  them  in  old  county  papers,  I  could 
not  find  any  notice  of  them. 

At  the  Scouring  of  1803,  "Beckingham  of 
Baydon  won  the  prize  at  wrestling;  Flowers 
and  Ellis  from  Somersetshire  won  the  prize  at 
backsword  play ;  the  waiter  at  the  Bell  Inn, 
Farringdon,  won  the  cheese  race,  and  at  jump- 
ing in  sacks ;  and  Thomas  Street,  of  Niton, 
won  the  prize  for  grinning  through  horse  col- 
lars, "  but,"  as  my  informant  told  me,  "  a  man 
from  Woodlands  would  ha'  beaat,  only  he'd 
got  no  teeth.  This  geaam  made  the  congrega- 
tion laaf  'mazinly." 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  139 

Then  came  a  Scouring  in  1808,  at  which 
the  Hanney  men  came  down  in  a  strong  body 
and  made  sure  of  winning  the  prize  for  wrest- 
ling. But  all  the  other  gamesters  leagued 
against  them,  and  at  last  their  champion, 
Belcher,  was  thrown  by  Fowler  of  Baydon  ; — 
both  these  men  are  still  living.  Two  men, 
"  with  very  shiny  top-boots,  quite  gentlemen, 
from  London,"  won  the  prize  for  backsword 
play,  one  of  which  gentlemen  was  Shaw,  the 
life-guardsman,  a  Wiltshire  man  himself  as  I 
was  told,  who  afterwards  died  at  Waterloo 
after  killing  so  many  cuirassiers.  A  new  prize 
was  given  at  this  pastime  and  a  very  black- 
guard one,  viz :  a  gallon  of  gin  or  half  a  guinea 
for  the  woman  who  would  smoke  most  tobacco 
in  an  hour.  Only  two  gypsy  women  entered, 
and  it  seems  to  have  been  a  very  abominable 
business,  but  it  is  the  only  instance  of  the  sort 
that  I  could  hear  of  at  any  Scouring. 

The  old  men  disagree  as  to  the  date  of  the 
next  Scouring,  which  was  either  in  1812  or 
1813 ;  but  I  think  in  the  latter  year,  because 
the  clerk  of  Kingstone  Lisle,  an  old  Peninsula 
man,  says  that  he  was  at  home  on  leave  in 
this  year,  and  that  there  was  to  be  a  Scour- 


140  THE   SCOURING   OF 

ing.  And  all  the  people  were  talking  about 
it  when  he  had  to  go  back  to  the  wars.  At 
this  Scouring  there  was  a  prize  of  a  loaf  made 
out  of  a  bushel  of  flour,  for  running  up  the 
manger,  which  was  won  by  Philip  New,  of 
Kingstone-in-the-Hole ;  who  cut  the  great  loaf 
into  pieces  at  the  top,  and  sold  the  pieces  for 
a  penny  a  piece.  I  am  sure  he  must  have  de- 
served a  great  many  pennies  for  running  up 
that  place,  if  he  really  ever  did  it ;  for  I  would 
just  as  soon  undertake  to  run  up  the  front  of 
the  houses  in  Holborn.  The  low  country  men 
won  the  first  backsword  prize,  and  one  Ford) 
of  Ashbury,  the  second ;  and  the  Baydon  men, 
headed  by  Beckingham,  Fowler,  and  Break- 
spear,  won  the  prize  for  wrestling.  One  Henry 
Giles  (of  Hanney,  I  think  they  said)  had 
wrestled  for  the  prize,  and  I  suppose  took  too 
much  beer  afterwards  ;  at  any  rate,  he  fell  into 
the  canal  on  his  way  home  and  was  drowned. 
So  the  jury  found,  "  Killed  at  wrastlin' ; " 
"  though,"  as  my  informant  said,  "  'twur  a 
strange  thing  for  a  old  geamster  as  knew  all 
about  the  stage,  to  be  gettin'  into  the  water 
for  a  bout.  Hows'mever,  Sir,  I  hears  as  they 
found  it  as  I  tells  'ee,  and  you  med  see  it  any 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  141 

day  as  you've  a  mind  to  look  in  the  parish 
register." 

Then  I  couldn't  find  that  there  had  been 
another  Scouring  till  1825,  but  the  one  which 
took  place  in  that  year  seems  by  all  accounts 
to  have  been  the  largest  gathering  that  there 
has  ever  been.  The  games  were  held  at  the 
Seven  Barrows,  which  are  distant  two  miles 
in  a  southeasterly  direction  from  the  White 
Horse,  instead  of  in  Uffington  Castle  ;  but  I 
could  not  make  out  why.  These  seven  bar- 
rows, I  heard  the  Squire  say,  are  probably  the' 
burial-places  of  the  principal  men  who  were 
killed  at  Ashdown,  and  near  them  are  other 
long  irregular  mounds,  all  full  of  bones  huddled 
together  anyhow,  which  are  very  likely  the 
graves  of  the  rank  and  file. 

After  this  there  was  no  Scouring  till  1838, 
when,  on  the  19th  and  20th  of  September,  the 
old  custom  was  revived,  under  the  patronage 
of  Lord  Craven.  The  Reading  Mercury  con- 
gratulates its  readers  on  the  fact,  and  adds 
that  no  more  auspicious  year  could  have  been 
chosen  for  the  revival,  "  than  that  in  which 
our  youthful  and  beloved  Queen  first  wore  the 
British  crown,  and  in  which  an  heir  was  born 


142  THE  SCOURING   OF 

to  the  ancient  and  noble  house  of  Craven, 
whom  God  preserve."  I  asked  the  Parson  if 
he  knew  why  it  was  that  such  a  long  time 
had  been  let  to  pass  between  the  1825  Scour- 
ing and  the  next  one. 

"  You  see  it  was  a  transition  time,"  said  he ; 
"  old  things  were  passing  away.  What  with 
Catholic  Emancipation,  and  Reform,  and  the 
new  Poor  Law,  even  the  quiet  folk  in  the 
Vale  had  no  time  or  heart  to  think  about  pas- 
times ;  and  machine-breaking  and  rick-burn- 
ing took  the  place  of  wrestling  and  backsword 
play." 

"  But  then,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  this  last  fourteen 
years  we  haven't  had  any  Reform  Bill  (worse 
luck)  and  yet  there  was  no  Scouring  between 
1843  and  1857." 

"  Why  can't  you  be  satisfied  with  my  rea- 
son ? "  said  he ;  "  now  you  must  find  one  out 
for  yourself." 

The  last  Scouring,  in  September,  1843,  Joe 
had  been  at  himself,  and  told  me  a  long  story 
about,  which  I  should  be  very  glad  to  repeat, 
only  I  think  it  would  rather  interfere  with  my 
own  story  of  what  I  saw  myself.  The  Berk- 
shire and  Wiltshire  men,  under  Joe  Giles  of 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  143 

Shrivenham,  got  the  better  of  the  Somerset- 
shire men,  led  by  Simon  Stone,  at  backsword 
play ;  and  there  were  two  men  who  came  down 
from  London,  who  won  the  wrestling  prize  away 
from  the  countrymen.  "  What  I  remember  best, 
however,"  said  Joe,  "  was  all  the  to-do  to  get 
the  elephant's  caravan  up  the  hill,  for  Womb- 
well's  menagerie  came  down  on  purpose  for  the 
Scouring.  I  should  think  they  put-to  &  matter 
of  four-and-twerity  horses,  and  then  stuck  fast 
four  or  five  times.  I  was  a  little  chap  then  but 
I  sat  and  laughed  at  'em  a  good  one ;  and 
I  don't  know  that  I've  seen  so  foolish  a  job 
since." 

"  I  don't  see  why,  Joe,"  said  I. 

"  You  don't  ?  "  said  he,  "  well,  that's  good, 
too.  Why  didn't  they  turn  the  elephant  out  and 
make  him  pull  his  own  caravan  up  ?  He  would 
have  been  glad  to  do  it,  poor  old  chap,  to  get  a 
breath  of  fresh  air,  and  a  look  across  the  vale." 

But  now  that  I  have  finished  all  that  I  have 
to  tell  about  the  old  Scourings,  (at  least  all  that 
I  expect  any  body  will  read,)  I  must  go  back 
again  to  the  kitchen  on  the  night  of  the  16th  of 
September,  1857.  Joe,  who,  as  I  said,  was  half 


144  THE   SCOURING   OF 

asleep  while  I  was  reading,  soon  waked  up  after- 
wards, though  it  was  past  eleven  o'clock,  and 
began  to  settle  how  we  were  to  go  up  the  hill 
the  next  morning. 

"  Now  I  shall  ride  the  chestnut  up  early,"  said 
he,  "  'cause  I  may  be  wanted  to  help  the  Squire 
and  the  rest,  but  it  don't  matter  for  the  rest  of 
you.  I'll  have  a  saddle  put  on  my  old  brown 
horse,  and  he'll  be  quiet  enough,  for  he  has  been 
at  harvest  work,  and  the  four-wheel  must  come 
up  with  Lu  somehow.  Will  you  ride  or  drive, 
Sir  ?  "  said  he,  turning  to  the  Parson. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind ;  whichever  is  most  con- 
venient," said  Mr.  Warton. 

"  Did'st  ever  drive  in  thy  life,  Dick  ? "  said 
Joe  to  me. 

I  was  very  near  saying  "  yes,"  for  I  felt 
ashamed  of  not  being  able  to  do  what  they 
could  ;  however,  I  told  the  truth,  and  said  "  no ; " 
and  next  minute  I  was  very  glad  I  had,  for, 
besides  the  shame  of  telling  a  lie,  how  much 
worse  it  would  have  been  to  be  found  out  by 
Miss  Lucy  in  the  morning,  or  to  have  had  an 
upset  or  some  accident. 

So  it  was  settled  that  Mr.  Warton  should 
drive  the  four-wheel,  and  that  I  should  ride  the 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  145 

old  horse.  I  didn't  think  it  necessary  to  say 
that  I  had  never  ridden  any  thing  but  the  don- 
keys on  Hampstead  Heath,  and  the  elephant  in 
the  Zoological  Gardens.  And  so,  when  all  was 
settled,  we  went  to  bed. 


146  THE   SCOURING  OF 


CHAPTER    VI. 

NEXT  morning  I  got  up  early,  for  I  wasn't 
quite  easy  in  my  mind  about  riding  Joe's  old 
horse,  and  so  I  thought  I  would  just  go  round 
and  look  at  him,  and  ask  the  fogger  something 
about  his  ways.  It  was  a  splendid  morning, 
not  a  cloud  to  be  seen.  I  found  the  fogger 
strapping  away  at  the  horses.  Everybody  had 
been  up  and  about  since  daylight,  to  get  their 
day's  work  done,  so  that  they  might  get  away 
early  to  the  pastime.  All  the  cows  had  been 
milked  and  turned  out  again,  and  Joe  was  away 
in  the  fields,  looking  after  his  men. 

I  stood  beating  about  the  bush  for  some  time, 
for  I  didn't  want  to  let  the  man  see  what  I  was 
thinking  of  if  I  could  help  it.  However,  when 
he  brought  out  the  old  brown  horse  to  clean 
him  down,  I  went  up  and  patted  him,  and 
asked  whether  he  was  a  good  saddle  horse. 

"  Ees,  there    warn't   much   fault   to  find   \vi' 


v     THE  WHITE  HORSE.  147 

un,"  said  the  fogger,  stopping  his  hissing  and 
rubbing  for  a  moment,  "  leastways  for  them  as 
didn't  mind  a  high  goer." 

I  didn't  quite  know  what  he  meant  by  a  high 
goer,  so  I  asked  him  if  the  brown  was  up  to 
my  weight. 

"  Lor'  bless  'ee,  ees.  He'd  make  no  account 
o'  vivteen  stun.  Be  you  to  ride  un  up  the  hill, 
Sir,  make  so  bold  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Yes,  at  least  I  think  so,"  said  I. 

"  Hev  'ee  got  arra  loose  tooth,  Sir  ?  "  said  he, 
grinning. 

«  No,"  said  I,  "  why  ?  " 

"'Cause  he'll  be  as  likely  as  not  to  shake  »n 
out  for  'ee,  Sir,  if  you  lets  un  hev  his  head  up 
on  the  downs." 

I  didn't  like  this  account  of  the  brown  horse, 
for  as  I  hadn't  ridden  much,  he  might  take  his 
head  perhaps  whether  I  let  him  have  it  or  not. 
So  I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  ride.  I  thought 
I  would  go  behind  in  the  four-wheel,  for  I  didn't 
like  to  leave  Miss  Lucy  all  alone  with  the  Parson 
for  so  long ;  but  then  I  found  out  that  one  of 
the  carter-boys  was  to  go  behind  to  look  after 
the  horses,  and  I  didn't  choose  to  be  put  up  side 
by  side  with  him,  to  look  ridiculous.  There 


148  THE  SCOUE1NG   OF 

was  a  big  wagon  going  up,  too,  full  of  the  farm 
servants,  but  that  didn't  seem  to  suit  me  any 
better,  so  I  settled  with  myself  that  I  would 
just  start  and  walk  up. 

Joe,  lucidly  for  me,  thought  he  had  settled 
every  thing,  and  so  at  breakfast  said  nothing 
more  about  the  old  horse ;  though  I  was  afraid 
he  would  every  minute,  and  then  I  should  have 
had  to  pretend  I  was  going  to  ride,  or  they 
might  have  found  out  that  I  didn't  quite  like  the 
notion.  I  was  very  glad  when  I  saw  him  fairly 
off  after  breakfast,  cantering  away  on  the  chest- 
nut; and,  very  soon  afterwards,  I  took  a  good 
stout  stick  of  Joe's  in  my  hand,  put  my  note- 
book in  my  pocket,  and  started  off  quietly  by 
myself. 

At  first  as  I  walked  along  I  didn't  enjoy  my- 
self much  for  thinking  of  the  four-wheel,  and  I 
was  almost  getting  jealous  of  the  Parson  again. 
But  I  soon  got  over  it,  when  I  remembered  how 
kind  he  had  been  the  night  before.  And  I  felt, 
too,  that  if  he  really  was  making  up  to  her 
there  was  very  little  chance  for  me,  so  I  had 
better  make  up  my  mind  anyhow  to  see  and 
enjoy  every  thing  I  could.  I  don't  think  I  was 
very  much  in  love  at  the  time ;  if  it  had  been 


THE   WmTE    HORSE.  149 

a  week  later  I  should  have  found  it  much 
harder  perhaps. 

I  kept  along  the  shady  side  of  the  road,  for  it 
was  getting  hot  already,  and  crossed  the  canal, 
and  kept  making  up  towards  the  hills.  I  wasn't 
sure  of  the  way,  but  I  knew  that  if  once  I  got 
up  the  hill  I  should  find  the  Ridgeway,  and 
could  follow  it  all  the  way  up  to  the  Castle. 
After  a  bit  I  fell  in  with  groups  of  people,  all 
going  the  same  way ;  and  so,  following  on  with 
them,  after  about  an  hour's  walk,  I  came  to  the 
foot  of  the  hills  ;  and  found  a  pretty  little  inn, 
standing  back  from  the  road,  nestled  into  a 
plantation,  where  everybody  else  seemed  to  be 
stopping;  and  so  I  stopped  too,  and  sat  down 
on  the  bench  before  the  door  to  have  a  glass  of 
beer  before  facing  the  pull  up  to  the  top. 

In  front  of  the  door  was  an  oak  tree,  and 
under  the  tree  a  big  stone  with  some  curious 
holes  in  it,  into  which  pieces  of  wood  were 
fitted,  secured  by  a  padlock  and  chain.  I  was 
wondering  what  it  could  be,  when  the  landlord 
came  out  with  some  of  his  guests,  and  pulling 
out  a  key  unlocked  the  padlock,  and  took  the 
pieces  of  wood  out  of  the  holes.  Then  there 
was  some  talk  between  the  young  men  and 


150  THE   SCOURING    OF 

their  sweethearts,  and  first  one  and  then  an- 
other stooped  down  and  blew  into  the  hole  at 
the  top,  and  the  stone  made  a  dull  moaning 
sound,  unlike  any  thing  I  had  ever  heard.  The 
landlord  told  me  that  when  it  was  well  blown 
on  a  still  day,  it  could  be  heard  for  four  or  five 
miles,  and  I  should  think  it  could ;  for  I  left 
them  blowing  away  when  I  started  again,  and 
heard  the  sound  every  now  and  then  until  I  was 
close  up  to  the  Castle,  though  the  wind  blew 
from  the  south,  and  down  the  hill. 

I  should  think  a  dozen  parties,  in  all  sorts  of 
odd  go-carts  and  other  vehicles,  or  on  foot,  must 
have  passed  the  Blowing-Stone  in  the  ten  min- 
utes which  I  spent  on  the  bench.  So  I  got 
quite  eager  to  be  up  at  the  Castle,  and  paid  for 
my  beer  and  started  again.  It  is  a  very  long 
stiff  pull  up  Blowing-Stone  Hill,  and  the  road  is 
not  a  very  good  one  ;  so  I  soon  began  to  pass 
the  gigs  and  carts,  most  of  which  had  to  stop 
every  hundred  yards  or  so,  to  let  the  horses  and 
donkeys  get  their  wind.  Half-way  up,  in  the 
worst  part  of  the  hill,  I  found  an  old  huckster- 
ing woman  and  a  boy  in  great  trouble.  They 
had  a  little  cart  laden  with  poles  and  boards  for 
a  stall,  and  two  great  sacks  of  nuts  and  sweet- 


THE    WHITE  HORSE.  151 

stuff;  and  only  one  donkey  in  the  shafts,  who 
had  got  one  wheel  of  the  cart  into  a  deep  chalk 
rut,  and  stood  there  like  a  post.  The  woman 
and  boy  were  quite  beat  with  dragging  at  his 
head,  and  trying  to  lift  the  wheel  out  of  the  rut, 
and  as  I  came  up  she  was  "  fairly  giving  out." 

Lawk-a-massy  !  *  how  ever  be  I  to  scawt  * 
up?  Do'ee  lend  a  help,  there's  a  good  soul," 
said  she  to  me. 

"  Well,  I  couldn't  go  by  and  leave  her  there, 
though  I  didn't  half  like  having  to  stop ;  so  I 
helped  to  lift  the  wheel  out,  and  then  we  pushed 
the  cart  up  a  few  yards,  and  the  old  donkey 
tried  to  sidle  it  into  another  rut,  and  we  had 
another  fight  with  him.  My  blood  got  up  at 
his  obstinacy;  I  don't  believe  there  ever  was 
another  such  a  donkey  in  the  world;  so  the 
more  he  backed  and  sidled,  the  more  I  and  the 
old  woman  and  the  boy  fought.  And  then  the 
people  that  passed  us  began  to  laugh  and  joke 
at  us,  and  I  got  very  angry  at  them,  and  the  old 
woman,  and  everybody ;  but  I  set  my  teeth,  and 
made  up  my  mind  to  get  him  up  to  the  top  if  I 
stayed  there  all  day. 

I  should  think  we   must  have  been  nearly 

*  "  Scawt " — to  get  up. 


152  THE   SCOURING   OF 

half  an  hour  at  work,  and  had  got  on  about 
three  hundred  yards  or  so,  when  a  fine  dog-cart 
on  high  wheels  came  up.  I  heard  the  gentle- 
men in  it  talking  and  laughing  as  they  came 
near  us  ;  but  I  didn't  look  up,  and  kept  work- 
ing away  at  the  donkey,  for  I  was  afraid  they 
would  only  joke  at  us. 

"  Oh  deary  me,  deary  me,  Master  Gaarge, 
be  that  you?"  I  heard  the  old  woman  call 
out ;  "  now  do'ee  stop  some  o'  the  chaps,  and 
tell  'em  to  help.  I  be  nigh  caddled  to  death  wi' 
this  drattled  old  jackass^oh  dear,  oh  dear!" 

"  Why,  Betty !  what  in  the  world  are  you 
after?-"  said  a  merry  voice,  \vhich  I  thought  I 
had  heard  before;  and,  looking  up,  I  saw  the 
young  gentleman  who  had  promised  me  the 
song. 

"  Oh,  you  see,  Master  Gaarge,  I  thought  as 
I  might  turn  a  honest  penny  if  I  could  only 
win  up  to  the  pastime  wi'  some  nuts  and 
brandy-balls.  So  I  loaned  neighbour  Tharne's 
cart  as  he  fetches  coals  from  the  canal  wi', 
and  his  ass — and  if  'twas  Balaam's  ass  hisself 
he  couldn't  be  no  wus — and  here  I  be ;  and 
if  it  hadn't  a  been  for  this  kind  gentleman" — 

"  Well,  stop  your  talk,  Betty,  and  take  hold 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  153 

of  his  head,"  said  he,  jumping  out  of  his  dog- 
cart and  giving  the  reins  to  the  one  who  was 
beside  him.  "  Ah,  good  morning."  nodding  to 
me,  as  he  came  to  the  back  of  the  cart,  "  now 
then,  with  a  will!  shove  away!" 

So  we  shoved  the  cart  hard  against  the  don- 
key's legs.  "  Don't  pull,  Betty,  let  him  have 
his  head ;  just  keep  hold  of  the  reins.  Look 
out,  boy;  stop  him  making  for  the  ditch;" 
and  away  went  Master  Neddy  scrambling  up 
hill,  for  he  found  that  the  cart  was  coming 
over  his  back  if  he  didn't  move  on.  Master 
George  was  as  strong  as  a  ballast  heaver,  and 
the  donkey  seemed  to  find  it  out  quick  enough, 
for  we  were  up  the  hill  in  no  time. 

"  Bless  your  kind  heart,  Master  Gaarge ! " 
almost  sobbed  the  old  woman ;  "I  be  all 
straight  now.  Do'ee  hev  summat  to  suck  now, 
or  some  nuts,  and  this  kind  gentleman  too ; 
you  allus  wur  fond  o'  suck ; "  and  she  began 
untying  the  neck  of  one  of  her  sacks. 

"  Oh,  Betty,  you  wicked  old  lone  woman ! " 
said  he,  "  haven't  you  made  me  ill  often  enough 
with  your  nastinesses  fifteen  years  ago  ?  " 

"  Dwont'ee,  now,  call  'em  names,  Master 
Gaarge." 

•7* 


154  THE   SCOURING  OF 

"  Good-bye,  Betty,  and  make  haste  up  to  the 
Castle  before  all  the  small  boys  are  poisoned. 
I  can  give  you  a  lift,  Sir,"  said  he  to  me,  "  if 
you'll  jump  up  behind." 

I  thanked  him,  and  got  up  behind,  by  the 
side  of  one  of  the  other  young  gentlemen,  who 
I  thought  didn't  seern  much  to  like  having  me 
there ;  and  I  felt  very  pleased,  as  we  bowled 
along  the  Ridgeway,  passing  all  the  people  who 
had  been  laughing  at  me  and  the  donkey,  that 
they  should  see  that  I  was  in  such  good  com- 
pany, and  should  be  up  at  the  Castle  before 
any  of  them. 

The  whole  Ridgeway  was  alive  with  holiday 
folk,  some  walking  with  their  coats  and  bonnets 
off,  some  in  great  wagons,  some  in  all  sorts 
of  strange  vehicles,  such  as  I  had  never  seen 
before  (many  of  which  Master  George  declared 
had  been  impressed  by  Alfred's  commissariat 
and  hospital  staff,  in  his  wars  against  the  Danes, 
when  they  were  strong  young  traps) ;  but  from 
one  and  ah1  there  rose  up  a  hum  of  broad  Berk- 
shire, and  merry  laughter,  as  we  shot  by  them. 
Sometimes  a  yeoman  in  his  gig,  or  on  his  stout 
hackney,  would  try  to  keep  up  with  us,  or  to 
stop  us  from  passing  him,  but  Master  George 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  155 

was  a  reckless  driver,  and  somehow  or  another, 
galloping  or  trotting,  on  the  right  side  or  the 
wrong,  he  -would  pass ;  so  in  about  ten  minutes 
we  had  got  over  the  two  miles  of  downs,  and 
were  close  up  to  the  Castle. 

Here  the  first  thing  I  saw  was  Joe,  with  two 
other  farmers,  carrying  a  lot  of  little  white  and 
pink  flags,  and  measuring  ground. 

"  Please  put  me  down,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  there's 
my  friend." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Master  George,  pulling  up, 
"  I  see — you're  staying  with  Farmer  Hurst. 
Well,  I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  helping 
poor  old  Betty — she's  a  good  struggling  old 
widow  body  in  our  village ;  I've  known  her 
ever  since  I  could  walk  and  suck.  Good  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Hurst;  likely  to  be  a  good  muster 
to-day." 

"  Mornin',  Sir,"  said  Joe,  touching  his  hat, 
"  I  think  so — there's  a  smart  lot  of  folk  in  the 
Castle  already." 

"  Well,  I  hope  we  may  meet  again,"  said 
Master  George  to  me,  "  I  won't  forget  the  song 
for  you,'' — and  away  he  drove  towards  the 
Castle. 

"  Why,  Dick  man,  where's  the  old  horse  ? " 


156  THE  SCOURING  OF 

said  Joe,  looking  as  if  I  had  come  from  the 
moon. 

"  Oh,  I  walked,"  said  I,  "  I  prefer  it,  when  I 
have  time." 

"  Come  own  it,  Dick,"  said  he,  "  thou  wast 
ashamed  of  the  old  horse's  long  rough  coat — 
I  didn't  think  thou  hadst  been  such  a  dandy." 

"  Upon  my  honour  it  was  nothing  of  the 
sort,"  said  I,  glad  enough  that  he  wasn't  on 
the  right  scent. 

"  And  how  did  you  get  along  with  one  of 
our  young  squires?"  said  he. 

"  Oh,  he  offered  me  a  lift,"  said  I ;  and  then 
I  told  him  my  story. 

"  "Well,  you  always  seem  to  fall  on  your  legs," 
said  he  ;  "  who  are  they  with  him  ?  " 

"  Oxford  scholars,  I  think,"  said  I,  "  from 
their  talk ;  but  I  didn't  get  on  much  with  them, 
they're  not  so  free  spoken  as  he  is."  But  what 
are  you  about  here,  Joe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  helping  the  umpires  to  measure  out 
the  course  for  the  cart-horse  race ; "  "  look,  there 
are  the  flags  right  along  for  half  a  mile,  and 
the  finish  is  to  be  up  there  by  the  side  of  the 
Castle,  for  all  the  folk  to  see.  But  come  along, 
for  I  must  be  after  the  umpires  ;  I  see  they 
want  me." 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  157 

"  I  think,"  said  I,  "  I  should  like  to  go  and 
see  what's  going  on  in  the  Castle." 

"  Very  good,"  said  he,  "  then  I'll  look  after 
you  when  we've  done  this  job;"  and  away  he 
went. 

I  wouldn't  take  time  to  go  round  by  either 
of  the  entrances,  but  made  straight  across  to 
the  nearest  point  of  the  great  earthworks,  and 
scrambled  over  the  outer  bank,  and  down  into 
the  deep  ditch,  and  up  the  inner  bank,  and 
stood  there  on  the  top,  looking  down  on  all  the 
fun  of  the  fair ;  for  fair  it  was  already,  though 
it  was  very  little  past  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 

There  was  the  double  line  of  booths  and 
stalls  which  I  had  seen  putting  up  the  day 
before,  making  a  long  and  broad  street,  and 
all  decked  out  with  nuts  and  apples,  and  ginger- 
bread, and  all  sorts  of  sucks  and  food,  and 
children's  toys,  and  cheap  ribbons,  knives, 
braces,  straps,  and  all  manner  of  gaudy-look- 
ing articles.  Opposite,  on  the  north  side,  all 
the  shows  had  got  their  great  pictures  up  of 
the  wonders  which  were  to  be  seen  inside,  and 
the  performers  were  strutting  about  on  the 
stages  outside,  and  before  one  of  them  an  aero- 


158  THE   SCOURING   OF 

bat  was  swinging  backwards  and  forwards  on 
the  slack  rope,  and  turning  head  over  heels  at 
the  end  of  each  swing.  And  every  show  had 
its  own  music,  if  it  were  only  a  drum  and  pan 
pipes,  and  all  the  musicians  were  playing,  as 
loud  as  they  could  play,  different  tunes.  Then, 
on  the  east  side,  were  the  great  booths  of  the 
publicans,  ah1  decked  out  now  with  flowers  and 
cheap  flags,  with  their  skittle-grounds  behind; 
and  lots  of  gypsies,  and  other  tramps,  with  their 
"three  sticks  a  penny,"  and  other  games.  The 
west  side  was  only  occupied,  as  I  said  before, 
by  the  great  white  tent  of  the  County  Police, 
where  the  Committee  were  sitting,  and  Lord 
Craven's  tents  some  way  in  front ;  but  these 
looked  pretty  and  gay  now,  for  they  had  hoisted 
some  good  flags ;  and  there  in  the  middle  stood 
the  great  ugly  stage,  and  the  greasy  pole.  The 
whole  space  was  filled  with  all  sorts  of  people, 
from  ladies  looking  as  if  they  had  just  come 
from  Kensington  Gardens,  down  to  the  ragged 
little  gypsy  children,  with  brown  faces  and  brick- 
coloured  hair,  all  moving  about,  and  looking 
very  much  as  if  they  were  enjoying  themselves. 
So  after  looking  a  minute,  I  got  down  into 
the  crowd,  and  set  to  work  to  see  every  thing 
I  could. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  159 

I  hadn't  been  pushing  about  amongst  the  rest 
above  five  minutes,  when  two  men  stopped 
close  by  me,  one  (who  was  the  Wantage  crier, 
I  found  out  afterwards)  with  his  hand  full  of 
papers,  and  the  other  carrying  a  gong,  which 
he  began  to  beat  loud  enough  to  deafen  one. 
When  the  crowd  had  come  round  him,  the 
crier  began,  and  I  should  think  he  might  have 
been  heard  at  Elm  Close  : — 

"  Oh  yes  !  oh  yes  !  by  order  of  the  Committee, 
all  persons  who  mean  to  play  for  prizes,  must 
enter  their  names  on  the  umpires'  lists.  Oh 
yes !  oh  yes !  the  umpires'  lists  are  open  in  the 
tent,  and  names  may  be  entered  from  now  till 
half-past  twelve.  Oh  yes !  a  list  of  the  um- 
pires for  the  different  games  and  sports  may  be 
seen  on  the  board  outside  the  tent-door.  God 
save  the  Queen  !  " 

As  soon  as  he  had  done,  he  and  the  man 
with  the  gong  went  off  to  another  part  of  the 
Castle,  but  I  could  see  some  of  the  men  and 
boys,  who  had  been  standing  round,  sidling  off 
towards  the  great  tent  to  enter  for  some  of  the 
games,  as  I  guessed.  £3o  I  followed  across  the 
Castle  to  the  space  in  front  of  the  tent. 

I  could   see,   through   the   entrance,   two   or 


160  THE   SCOURING   OF 

three  of  the  Committee  sitting  at  a  table,  with 
paper  and  pens  and  ink  before  them  ;  and  every 
now  and  then,  from  the  little  groups  which  were 
standing  about,  some  man  would  make  a  plunge 
in,  and  go  up  to  the  table ;  and,  after  a  word  or 
two  with  them,  would  enter  his  name  on  one  or 
more  of  the  lists,  and  then  come  out,  sometimes 
grinning,  but  generally  looking  as  if  he  were 
half  ashamed  of  himself.  I  remarked  more  and 
more  through  the  day  what  a  shy,  shamefaced 
fellow  the  real  countryman  was,  while  the  gyp- 
sies and  racing  boys  and  tramps,  who  entered 
for  the  races,  but  not  for  the  backsword  or 
wrestling  prizes,  were  ah1  as  bold  as  brass, 
and  stood  chattering  away  to  the  Committee- 
men,  till  they  were  almost  ordered  out  of  the 
tent. 

I  sat  down  on  the  turf  outside  the  tent  to 
watch ;  for  I  felt  very  much  interested  in  the 
games,  and  liked  to  see  the  sort  of  men  who 
came  to  enter.  There  were  not  many  very  stout 
or  tall  men  amongst  them ;  I  should  say  they 
averaged  about  eleven  stone  in  weight,  and  five 
feet  eight  inches  in  height ;  but  they  looked  a 
very  tough  race ;  and  I  could  quite  believe, 
while  looking  at  them,  what  Joe  told  me  one 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  161 

day — "  Though  there's  plenty  of  quicker  men, 
and  here  and  there  stronger  ones,  scarce  any 
man  that  ever  comes  down  our  way — either  at 
navigator's  work  or  loafing  about,  like  the  gyp- 
sies and  tramps — can  ever  come  up  to  our  chaps 
in  last,  whether  at  fighting  or  working." 

There  was  one  man  amongst  them  who  struck 
me  particularly,  I  suppose  because  he  wore  a 
Crimean  medal  with  four  clasps,  and  went  quite 
lame  on  a  crutch.  I  found  out  his  history.  Old 
Mattingly,  the  blacksmith  of  Uffington,  had 
three  sons  when  the  Russian  war  broke  out. 
They  all  went  for  soldiers.  The  first  was  shot 
through  the  hand,  as  that  gray,  deadly  dawn 
broke  over  Inkermann,  on  the  5th  of  November, 
1854.  Had  he  gone  to  the  rear  he  would  prob- 
ably have  lived.  He  fought  till  the  last  Russian 
vanished  along  the  distant  road,  and  over  the 
bridge  heaped  with  slain,  like  a  gallant  Berk- 
shire lad — and  then  went  to  hospital  and  died 
of  his  wounds  within  a  week.  The  second 
lies  before  Sebastopol  in  the  advanced  trenches 
of  the  right  attack.  The  third,  the  young  artil- 
leryman, went  through  the  whole  war,  and  after 
escaping  bayonet  and  shot  and  shell,  was  kicked 
by  the  horse  of  a  wounded  officer,  and  probably 


1G2  THE  SCOURING   OF 

lamed  for  life.  According  to  the  rules  of  the 
service,  my  informant  seemed  to  think,  he  was 
not  entitled  to  a  pension  for  life,  "  but  they  had 
given  him  one  for  eighteen  months  after  his  dis- 
charge, so  that  he  had  almost  a  year  of  it  to 
run ;  and  perhaps  he  might  learn  blacksmith- 
work  in  that  time,  if  he  could  stand  at  all,  for 
that  was  mostly  arm-work." 

I  didn't  know  what  the  regulations  as  to 
pensions  were,  or  how  long  young  Mattingly 
would  take  to  learn  blacksmith-work,  but  I  did 
feel  rather  ashamed  that  England  couldn't  afford 
to  do  a  little  more  for  such  as  he ;  and  should 
be  glad  for  my  part  to  pay  something  to- 
wards it,  if  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer, 
or  somebody,  would  find  out  a  way  to  set  this 
right.  Or  perhaps  if  this  should  ever  meet  the 
eye  of  the  Commander-in- Chief,  or  of  any  of  the 
gentlemen  who  were  made  K.C.B's  in  the  war- 
time, or  of  any  other  person  who  has  interest  in 
the  army,  they  may  see  whether  any  thing  more 
can  be  done  for  young  Mattingly. 

Many  of  the  younger  ones  I  could  see  hadn't 
made  up  their  minds  whether  or  no  they  should 
enter,  and  were  larking  and  pushing  one  an- 
other about;  and  I  saw  several  good  trials  of 


THE   WHITE    HORSE.  163 

strength,  and  got  an  idea  of  what  the  wrestling 
was  like  before  the  lists  were  closed. 

"  Bi'st  in  for  young  geamsters  prize  at  wrast- 
lin',  shepherd?"  asked  a  young  carter  with 
his  hat  full  of  ribbons,  of  a  tight-made,  neatly- 
dressed  fellow,  who  had  already  won  a  second 
prize,  I  heard,  at  his  village  revel. 

The  shepherd  nodded. 

"  Mose,  mun,"  went  on  the  carter,  "  thee 
shouldst  go  in.  Thee  bi'st  big  enough." 

Moses  was  an  overgrown,  raw-boned  fellow, 
of  about  eighteen,  in  a  short  smock-frock  and 
a  parr  of  very  dilapidated  militia-trousers.  He 
had  been  turning  the  matter  over  in  his  own 
mind  for  some  time,  and  now,  after  looking  the 
shepherd  over  for  a  minute,  pulled  his  great 
hands  out  of  his  pockets,  hunched  up  his  shoul- 
ders, and  grunted  out — 

"  'Zay !  Try  a  rile*  wi'  thee,  shepherd." 

The  bystanders  ah1  cheered.  Moses,  the  mili- 
tiaman, was  rather  a  joke  to  them.  The  shep- 
herd looked  scornful,  but  was  ready  to  try  a  file  ; 
but  he  stipulated  that  Mose  must  borrow  some 
shoes  instead  of  his  great,  iron-clouted  high- 
lows,  (no  man  is  allowed  to  wrestle,  I  found, 
with  any  iron  on  his  shoes.) 
*"  File  "—a  Ml. 


164  THE   SCOURING   OF 

This  seemed  likely  to  stop  the  fun.  Moses 
pulled  off  his  high -lows,  and  appeared  in  sinkers,* 
at  which  everybody  roared ;  but  no  shoes  were 
to  be  had.  Then  he  offered  to  wrestle  without 
shoes  ;  but  at  last  a  pair  were  found,  and  Moses 
advanced  with  his  great  hands  stretched  out 
towards  the  shepherd,  who,  not  deigning  to  take 
one  hand  out  of  his  pocket,  caught  Mose's  elbow 
with  the  other.  After  one  or  two  awkward  at- 
tempts, and  narrowly  escaping  some  well-meant 
trips,  Mose  bored  in ;  and  before  the  shepherd 
could  seize  the  militiaman's  collar  with  his 
second  hand,  over  he  went,  and  Mose  was  pro- 
claimed winner  of  a  file,  amid  shouts  of  laugh- 
ter. Then  they  buckled  to  again,  the  shepherd 
doing  his  best ;  but  somehow  Mose  managed  to 
keep  his  legs  ;  and  when  they  went  down,  both 
fell  on  their  sides,  and  it  was  only  a  dog-fall. 

In  another  minute  I  saw  the  militiaman  in  the 
tent  before  the  table. 

"  Plaze,  Sur,  put  down  Moses  Tilling — young 
geamster — wrastlin'." 

After  watching  the  tent  till  the  lists  were  just 
closing,  I  started  off  to  see  if  I  could  find  Miss 
Lucy,  who  ought  to  have  been  up  by  this  time, 

*  "  Sinkers  " — stockings  without  feet. 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  165 

and  to  get  something  to  eat  before  the  sports 
began.  The  luncheon  I  managed  easily  enough, 
for  I  went  over  to  the  great  booth  in  which  I 
had  dined  the  day  before,  and  sat  down  at  the 
long  table,  where  Peter  welcomed  me,  and  soon 
gave  me  as  much  as  I  could  eat  and  drink. 
But  when  I  had  finished,  and  went  out  to  look 
for  my  friends,  I  found  it  a  very  difficult  busi- 
ness, and  no  wonder,  for  there  were  more  than 
20,000  people  up  on  the  Hill. 

First  I  went  to  the  outside  of  the  Castle, 
where  all  the  carriages  were  drawn  up  in  long 
rows,  to  see  if  I  could  find  the  four-wheel 
amongst  them.  As  I  was  poking  about,  I  came 
close  to  a  fine  open  carriage,  and  hearing  a 
shout  of  merry  laughter,  looked  up.  There 
were  a  party  at  lunch;  two  ladies  and  some 
quite  young  girls  inside,  some  boys  on  the  box, 
and  several  gentlemen  standing  round,  holding 
bottles  and  sandwiches  ;  and  they  were  all  eat- 
ing and  drinking,  and  laughing  at  an  old  gypsy 
woman,  who  was  telling  the  fortune  of  one  of 
the  ladies. 

"  Love  '11  never  break  your  heart,  my  pretty 
lady,"  said  the  old  woman  ;  "  let  the  Norwood 
gypsy  see  your  hand,  my  pretty  lady." 


166  THE   SCOURING   OF 

The  lady  held  out  her  right  hand,  and  the 
little  girls  glanced  at  the  lady,  and  one  an- 
other, brimming  with  fun. 

"  It's  the  other  hand  the  gypsy  ought  to  see. 
Ah,  well,  then,  never  mind,"  she  went  on,  as  the 
lady  looked  quietly  in  her  face,  without  moving 
a  muscle,  "  the  old  Norwood  gypsy  can  read  it 
all  in  your  eyes.  There's  a  dark  gentleman, 
and  a  light  gentleman,  who'll  both  be  coming 
before  long ;  there'll  be  sore  hearts  over  it,  but 
the  richest  will  win  before  a  year's  out — " 
Here  the  girls  clapped  their  hands,  and  burst 
into  shouts,  and  the  lady  showed  her  other  hand 
with  a  wedding-ring  on,  and  went  on  quietly 
with  her  lunch. 

"  Ah ! "  I  never  said  she  wasn't  married ! "  said 
the  gipsy  to  the  girls,  who  only  laughed  the 
more.  I  had  got  quite  close  up  to  the  carriage, 
and  at  this  moment  caught  the  eye  of  the  lady, 
who  was  laughing  too  ;  then  I  felt  awkward  all 
at  once,  and  as  if  I  was  where  I  had  no  right  to 
be.  But  she  didn't  look  the  least  annoyed,  and 
I  was  passing  on,  when  I  saw  that  Mr.  Warton 
was  amongst  the  gentlemen  on  the  other  side  of 
the  carriage.  "  Ah,"  thought  I,  "  I  wonder  if 
he  '11  know  me  now  he's  with  his  fine  friends?  " 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  167 

But  the  next  minute  I  was  ashamed  of  myself 
for  doubting,  for  I  heard  him  wish  them  good- 
bye, and  before  I  was  ten  yards  from  the  car- 
riage, he  put  his  arm  in  mine. 

"  Well,  you  never  rode  after  all,"  he  began 

"  No,  Sir,"  said  I.  «  But  where  are  they  ?  I 
haven't  seen  Joe  this  two  hours. 

"  Oh,  not  far  off,"  said  he  ;  "  feeding,  like  the 
rest  of  us." 

And  further  down  the  line  we  found  Joe,  and 
Miss  Lucy,  and  several  friends  of  theirs,  lunch- 
ing on  the  turf  by  the  four-wheel.  So  we  sat 
down  with  them,  but  I  didn't  half  like  the  way 
in  which  Miss  Lucy  was  running  on  with  two 
young  farmers,  one  on  each  side  of  her.  She 
told  me  afterwards  that  she  had  known  them 
ever  since  they  were  children  together,  but  some- 
how that  didn't  seem  to  me  to  mend  the  matter 
much.  And  then  again,  when  Joe  got  up,  and 
said  it  was  time  to  move,  for  the  sports  would 
be  just  beginning,  nothing  would  serve  her  but 
to  walk  off  to  Wayland  Smith's  cave.  I  won- 
der whether  she  did  it  a  little  bit  to  provoke 
me  ;  for  she  knew  that  I  had  been  to  see  it  the 
day  before,  and  that  I  wanted  particularly  to  see 
all  the  sports.  But  I  don't  think  it  could  have 


168  THE   SCOURING   OF 

been  that  after  all,  for  when  I  said  I  should  stay 
with  Joe,  she  was  just  as  pleasant  as  ever,  and 
didn't  seem  to  mind  a  bit  whether  I  or  any  one 
else  went  with  her  or  not. 

I  am  afraid  I  shall  make  a  very  poor  hand  at 
telling  about  the  sports,  because  I  couldn't  be  in 
five  or  six  places  at  once ;  and  so  I  was  kept 
running  about,  from  the  stage  in  the  middle  of 
the  Castle  out  on  to  the  downs  to  see  the  cart- 
horse race,  and  then  back  again  into  the  Castle 
for  the  jingling  match,  and  then  out  on  the 
other  side  to  the  manger  for  the  cheese  races, 
and  so  on  backwards  and  forwards ;  seeing  the 
beginning  of  one  sport,  and  the  end  of  another, 
and  the  middle  of  a  third.  I  wish  the  Com- 
mittee would  let  the  sports  begin  earlier,  and 
then  one  might  be  able  to  see  them  all.  How- 
ever I  must  do  the  best  I  can,  and  just  put  down 
what  I  saw  myself. 

The  first  move  for  the  sports  was  made  a 
little  before  one,  just  as  I  got  back  into  the 
Castle,  after  seeing  Miss  Lucy  start  for  Way- 
land  Smith's  cave.  The  Committee  came  oui 
of  their  tent  in  a  body,  each  man  carrying  the 
lists  of  the  entries  for  the  sports  over  which  he 
was  to  preside.  But  instead  of  going  different 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  169 

ways,  each  to  his  own  business,  they  walked 
across  in  a  body  to  the  stage,  and  stopped  just 
underneath  it,  in  the  middle  of  a  great  crowd 
of  men  and  boys ;  and  then  they  shouted  for 
silence,  and  the  chairman  spoke : — 

"  We  wish  to  say  a  few  words,  my  men,  to 
those  who  are  going  to  play  with  the  sticks  or 
wrestle  to-day.  There  has  been  a  good  deal  of 
talk  about  these  sports,  as  you  all  know ;  and 
many  persons  think  they  shouldn't  be  allowed  at 
all  now-a-days — that  the  time  for  them  has 
gone  by.  They  say,  that  men  always  lose  their 
tempers  and  get  brutal  at  these  sports.  We 
have  settled,  however,  to  give  the  old-fashioned 
games  a  fair  trial ;  and  it  will  rest  with  your- 
selves whether  we  shall  ever  be  able  to  offer 
prizes  for  them  again.  For,  depend  upon  it,  if 
there  is  any  savage  work  to-day,  if  you  lose 
your  tempers,  and  strike  or  kick  one  another 
unfairly,  you  will  never  see  any  more  wrestling 
or  backsword  on  White  Horse  Hill.  But  we 
are  sure  we  can  trust  you,  and  that  there  won't 
be  any  thing  to  find  fault  with.  Only  remembei 
again,  you  are  on  your  trial,  and  the  stage  will 
be  cleared  at  once,  and  no  prizes  given,  if  any 


170  THE   SCOUKING   OF 

thing  objectionable  happens.  And  now,  you 
can  put  to  as  soon  as  you  like." 

The  Committee  then  marched  off,  leaving  a 
very  large  crowd  round  the  stage,  all  eager  for 
the  play  to  begin. 

The  two  umpires  got  up  on  to  the  stage,  and 
walked  round,  calling  out,  "  Two  old  gamesters 
at  backsword,  and  two  old  gamesters  at  wrast- 
lin',  wanted  to  put  to."  But  I  suppose  the 
chairman's  speech  had  rather  taken  the  men  by 
surprise,  for  no  one  came  forward,  though  there 
was  a  crowd  twenty  deep  round  the  stage. 

"  Who  are  the  old  gamesters  ? "  I  asked  of 
the  man  next  me. 

"  Them  as  has  won  or  shared  a  first  prize  at 
any  revel,"  answered  he,  without  looking  round. 

After  a  minute  the  chairman's  brother,  who 
didn't  seem  to  have  much  scruple  about  these 
sports,  jumped  up  on  the  stage,  and  blew  an 
old  French  hunting-horn,  till  the  young  ones 
began  to  laugh  ;  and  then  told  the  men  not  to 
be  afraid  to  come  up,  for  if  they  didn't  begin  at 
once  there  wouldn't  be  light  to  play  out  the 
ties. 

At  last  there  was  a  stir  amongst  the  knot  of 
Somersetshire  men,  who  stood  together  at  one 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  171 

corner  of  the  stage ;  and  one  of  them,  stepping 
up,  pitched  on  to  it  his  stumpy  black  hat,  and 
then  climbed  up  after  it  himself,  spoke  a  word 
to  the  umpires,  and  began  handling  the  sticks, 
to  choose  one  which  balanced  to  his  mind, 
while  the  umpires  proclaimed,  "  An  old  game- 
ster wanted,  to  play  with  John  Bunn  of  Wed- 
more." 

"  There  he  stands,  you  see,"  said  Master 
George,  who  was  close  by  me,  though  I  hadn't 
seen  him  before,  "  the  only  remaining  represen- 
tative of  the  old  challenger  at  tourneys  ready 
to  meet  all  comers.  He  ought  to  have  a  herald 
to  spout  out  his  challenge  in  verse.  Why 
not  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  could  say  more  than 
the  umpire  has,  Sir,"  said  I. 

"  He  might  blow  his  own  trumpet  at  any 
rate,"  said  he ;  "  somehow  thus ; "  and  he  re- 
peated, after  a  false  start  or  two, — 

THE   ZONG   OF   THE   ZUMMERZETSHIRE     OWLD 

GEAMSTER.' 

i. 

"  Cham*  a  Zummerzetshire  mun 
Coom  her  to  hev  a  bit  o'vun. 

*  "  Cham  " — "  I  am,"  a  form  still  used  in  parts  of  Somersetshire. 


172  THE   SCOURING  OF 

Oo'lt  *  try  a  bout  ?    I  be'ant  aveard 
Ov  any  man  or  mother's  zun. 


"  Cham  a  geamster  owld  and  tough, 

Well  knowed  droo  all  the  country  zide, 
And  many  a  lusty  Barkshire  man 
To  break  my  yead  hev  often  tried. 


"  Who's  vor  a  bout  o  vriendly  plaay, 
As  never  should  to  anger  move  ? 
Zich  spwoorts  wur  only  meaned  vor  thaay 
As  likes  their  inazzards  broke  for  love." 

John  Bunn  looked  by  no  means  a  safe  man 
to  play  with.  He  stood  about  five  feet  eleven, 
with -spare  long  muscular  limbs,  a  sallow  com- 
plexion, and  thick  shock  head  of  black  hair, — 
a  good  defence  in  itself  against  any  common 
blow  of  a  stick.  But  now  that  the  ice  was 
broken,  his  challenge  was  soon  answered  ;  and 
George  Gregory,  of  Stratton,  one  of  the  best 
mowers  in  the  Vale,  appeared  to  uphold  the 
honour  of  Berks  and  Wilts.  He  stood  half  a 
head  shorter  than  his  opponent,  but  was,  proba- 
bly, the  stronger  man  of  the  two,  and  had  a 
sturdy  and  confident  look,  which  promised  well, 

*  "  Oo'lt  "—wilt  thou. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  173 

and  was  fair-haired,  and,  like  David,  ruddy  to 
look  upon. 

While  they  were  taking  off  coats  and  waist- 
coats, and  choosing  sticks,  two  wrestlers  got  up 
on  the  stage,  and  showed  the  shoes  in  which 
they  were  going  to  wrestle  to  the  umpires,  for 
approval ;  and  stood  at  the  ropes,  ready  to  begin 
as  soon  as  the  first  bout  at  backsword  was  over. 
The  crowd  drew  a  long  breath,  while  Bunn  and 
Gregory  came  forward,  shook  hands  ;  and  then 
throwing  up  their  guards,  met  in  the  middle  of 
the  stage. 

At  the  first  rattle  of  the  sticks,  the  crowd  be- 
gan cheering  again,  and  pressed  in  closer  to  the 
stage  ;  and  I  with  them,  for  it  was  very  excit- 
ing, that  I  felt  at  once.  The  coolness  and  reso- 
lution in  the  faces  of  the  two  men,  as  they 
struck  and  parried  with  those  heavy  sticks,  try- 
ing all  the  points  of  each  other's  play  in  a  dozen 
rapid  exchanges ;  the  skill  and  power  which 
every  turn  of  the  wrist  showed  ;  and  the  abso- 
lute indifference  with  which  they  treated  any 
chance  blow  which  fell  on  arm  or  shoulder, 
made  it  really  a  grand  sight ;  and  with  all  my 
prejudices  I  couldn't  help  greatly  admiring  the 
players.  "  Bout,"  cried  Bunn,  after  a  minute  or 


174  THE   SCOURING   OF 

so,  and  down  came  their  guards,  and  they 
walked  to  the  side  of  the  stage  to  collect  cop- 
pers from  the  crowd  below  in  the  baskets  of 
their  sticks,  while  the  two  first  wrestlers  put  to 
in  the  middle. 

I  suppose  there  are  more  unsettled  points  in 
wrestling,  or  it  is  harder  to  see  whether  the  men 
are  playing  fair,  for  the  crowd  was  much  more 
excited  now  than  at  the  backsword  play,  a  hun- 
dred voices  shouting  to  the  umpires  every  mo- 
ment to  stop  this  or  that  practice.  Besides, 
the  kicking,  which  is  allowed  at  elbow  and  col- 
lar wrestling,  makes  it  look  brutal  very  often ; 
and  so  I  didn't  like  it  so  much  as  the  backsword 
play,  though  the  men  were  fine,  good-tempered 
fellows,  and,  when  most  excited,  only  seemed  to 
want  what  they  called  "  fair  doos." 

I  stopped  by  the  stage  until  Gregory  had  lost 
his  head.  How  it  happened  I  couldn't  see,  but 
suddenly  the  umpires  cried  out  "  Blood  !  "  The 
men  stopped ;  Gregory  put  up  his  hand  to  his 
hair,  found  that  the  blood  was  really  coming, 
and  then  dropped  his  stick  and  got  down,  quite 
as  much  surprised  as  I  was.  And  two  more  old 
gamesters  were  called  up,  the  first  head  being 
to  Somersetshire. 


THE    WHITE   HORSE.  175 

But  now  I  heard  that  the  cart-horse  race  was 
just  coming  off,  and  so  following  the  crowd, 
made  my  way  across  to  the  east  of  the  Castle. 

I  scrambled  up  to  the  highest  part  of  the 
bank,  and  so  got  a  capital  view  of  the  scene 
below.  The  course  was  marked  out  all  the 
way  down  to  the  starting-post  by  rows  of  little 
pink  and  white  flags,  and  the  Committee-men 
were  riding  slowly  up  and  down,  trying  to  get  the 
people  to  keep  back  behind  the  flags.  The  line 
was,  on  the  whole,  pretty  well  kept ;  but  as  the 
crowd  got  thicker  every  minute,  every  now  and 
then  a  woman  with  two  or  three  children  would 
wander  out  to  escape  the  pressure  from  behind ; 
or  a  young  couple  keeping  company  would  run 
across,  hoping  to  better  their  position ;  or  a  lot 
of  uproarious  boys  would  start  out  for  a  lark,  to 
try  the  tempers,  and  very  possibly  the  whips,  of 
the  Committee. 

Joe  presently  rode  by  the  place  where  I  was 
standing,  and  called  out  to  me  to  come  down 
and  see  the  mounting.  So  I  slipped  out  of  the 
crowd,  and  ran  down  the  back  of  the  line  to  the 
starting-place.  There  I  found  the  Squire  and 
the  umpires,  passing  the  men  and  horses.  Five 
or  six  were  all  ready ;  the  great  horses  in  their 


176  THE   SCOURING   OF 

thill  harness,  which  jingled  and  rattled  with 
every  movement ;  and  the  carters  perched  up  in 
the  middle  of  the  wood  and  leather  and  brass, 
in  their  white  smock-frocks,  with  the  brims  of 
their  break-of-days  turned  up  in  front,  and  a 
bunch  of  ribbons  fluttering  from  the  side,  and 
armed  with  the  regular  long  cart-whip.  Just  as 
I  came  up,  Mr.  Avery  Whitfield's  bay  horse, 
"  King  of  the  Isle,"  was  passed,  and  took  his 
place  with  the  others.  He  was  one  of  the  three 
favourites,  I  heard  people  say. 

"  Call  the  next  horse." 

"  Mr.  Davenport's  gray  mare,  Dairymaid," 
shouts  the  umpire.  Here  she  comes  with  old 
Joe  Humphries,  the  jockey  and  horse  breaker, 
on  her  back.  He  is  in  full  jockey  costume — 
cap,  jacket,  and  tops,  with  a  racing  whip  and 
spurs.  The  umpires  look  doubtfully  at  him, 
and  consult  the  Squire.  At  first  they  seem 
inclined  not  to  let  Joe  ride  at  all,  but  as  the 
owners  of  the  other  horses  don't  object,  they 
only  insist  on  his  taking  off  his  spurs  and  chang- 
ing his  whip  for  a  common  long  carter's  whip. 
Then  Dairymaid  is  passed,  and  then  one  other 
horse ;  eight  in  all.  Two  of  the  Committee 
gallop  down  in  front  to  clear  the  course  for  the 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  177 

last  time ;  the  word  "  Off"  is  given ;  and  away 
go  the  great  steeds  in  furious  plunging  gallop, 
making  the  whole  hill  shake  beneath  them,  and 
looking  (as  I  heard  one  of  the  Oxford  scholars 
remark)  like  a  charge  of  German  knights  in 
some  old  etching.  Close  after  them  came  the 
umpires,  the  Committee-men,  and  all  the  mount- 
ed farmers,  cheering  and  shouting  pieces  of  ad- 
vice to  the  riders ;  and  the  crowd,,  as  they  pass, 
shout  and  wave  their  hats,  and  then  rush  after 
the  horses.  How  everybody  isn't  killed,  and 
how  those  men  can  sit  those  great  beasts  in  the 
middle  of  that  rattling  mass  of  harness,  were 
my  puzzles,  as  I  scrambled  along  after  the  rest. 

Meantime,  in  the  race,  Dairymaid  shoots  at 
once  some  yards  ahead,  and  improves  her  lead 
at  every  stride ;  for  she  is  a  famous  mare,  and 
old  Joe  Humphries  understands  the  tricks  of  the 
course,  and  can  push  her  and  lift  her  in  ways 
unknown  to  the  honest  carters  and  foggers,  who 
come  lumbering  behind  him — Joe  even  has  time 
for  a  contemptuous  glance  over  his  shoulder  at 
his  pursuers.  But  the  race  is  not  always  to  the 
swift,  at  least  not  to  those  who  are  swiftest  at 
starting.  Half-way  up  the  course,  Dairymaid 
ceases  to  gain ;  then  she  shows  signs  of  dis- 

8* 


178  THE   SCOURING   OF 

tress,  and  scarcely  answers  to  Joe's  persuasions. 
"  King  of  the  Isle  "  is  creeping  up  to  her — the 
carter  shakes  his  bridle,  and  begins  to  ply  his 
long  cart-whip — they  are  crossing  the  Ridge- 
way,  where  stand  the  carter's  fellow-servants, 
Mr.  Whitfield's  fogger,  shepherd,  ploughboys, 
&c.  who  set  up  a  shout  as  he  passes,  which 
sends  the  bay  right  up  abreast  of  the  rnare.  No 
wonder  they  are  excited,  for  the  master  has 
promised  that  the  three  guineas,  the  price  of 
the  new  thill  harness,  shall  be  divided  between 
them,  if  the  bay  wins. 

In  another  fifty  yards  he  is  drawing  ahead. 
All  old  Joe's  efforts  are  in  vain ;  his  jockeyship 
has  only  done  him  harm,  whereas  the  carter's 
knowledge  of  what  his  steed's  real  powers  are, 
has  been  the  making  of  him,  and  he  rides  in, 
brandishing  his  long  cart-whip,  an  easy  winner. 

Dairymaid  is  second,  but  only  just  before  the 
ruck;  and  old  Joe  creeps  away,  let  us  hope,  a 
humbler  and  a  wiser  man. 

Of  course  I  couldn't  see  all  this  myself,  be- 
cause I  was  behind,  but  Joe  told  me  all  about 
the  race  directly  afterwards.  When  I  got  up 
there  was  a  great  crowd  round  "  King  of  the 
Isle,"  from  whose  back  the  carter  was  explain- 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  179 

ing  something  about  the  race.  But  I  couldn't 
stay  to  listen,  for  I  heard  that  the  races  for  the 
"  prime  coated  Berkshire  fives  "  (as  they  called 
the  cheeses),  were  just  coming  off;  so  I  hurried 
away  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  just  above  the 
Horse,  where  it  is  steepest ;  for  I  wanted  of  all 
things  to  see  how  men  could  run  down  this 
place,  which  I  couldn't  get  up  without  using 
both  hands. 

There  stood  Mr.  William  Whitfield,  of  Uffing- 
ton,  the  umpire  who  had  to  start  the  race,  in  his 
broad-brimmed  beaver,  his  brown  coat  and  waist- 
coat with  brass  buttons,  and  drab  breeches  and 
gaiters.  I  thought  him  a  model  yeoman  to 
look  at,  but  I  didn't  envy  him  his  task.  Two 
wild-looking  gypsy  women,  with  their  elf-locks 
streaming  from  under  their  red  handkerchiefs, 
and  their  black  eyes  flashing,  were  rushing 
about  amongst  the  runners,  trying  to  catch 
some  of  their  relations  who  were  going  to  run  ; 
and  screaming  out  that  their  men  should  never 
break  their  limbs  down  that  break-neck  place. 
The  gypsies  dodged  about,  and  kept  out  of 
their  reach,  and  the  farmer  remonstrated,  but 
the  wild  women  still  persevered.  Then,  losing 
all  patience,  he  would  turn  and  poise  the  wheel, 


180  THE   SCOURING  OF 

ready  to  push  it  over  the  brow,  when  a  shout 
from  the  bystanders  warns  him  to  pause,  and, 
a  little  way  down  the  hill,  just  in  the  line  of 
the  race,  appear  two  or  three  giggling  lasses, 
hauled  along  by  their  sweethearts,  and  bent  on 
getting  a  very  good  view.  Luckily  at  this 
moment  the  Chairman  appeared,  and  rode  his 
white  horse  down  to  the  front  of  the  line  of 
men,  where  there  seemed  to  me  to  be  footing 
for  nothing  but  a  goat.  Then  the  course  was 
cleared  for  a  moment,  he  moved  out  of  the 
line,  making  a  signal  to  the  farmer,  who  pushed 
the  wheel  at  once  over  the  brow,  and  cried, 
"  Off."  The  wheel  gained  the  road  in  three 
bounds,  cleared  it  in  a  fourth  monster  bound 
which  measured  forty  yards,  and  hurried  down 
far  away  to  the  bottom  of  the  manger,  where 
the  other  two  umpires  were  waiting  to  decide 
who  is  the  winner  of  the  race. 

Away  go  the  fourteen  men  in  hot  pursuit, 
gypsies,  shepherds,  and  light-heeled  fellows  of 
aU  sorts,  helter-skelter ;  some  losing  their  foot- 
hold at  once,  and  rolling  or  slipping  down ; 
some  still  keeping  their  footing,  but  tottering 
at  every  step ;  one  or  two,  with  their  bodies 
well  thrown  back,  striking  their  heels  firmly 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  181 

into  the  turf,  and  keeping  a  good  balance. 
They  are  all  in  the  road  together,  but  here 
several  fall  on  their  faces,  and  others  give  in ; 
the  rest  cross  it  in  a  moment,  and  are  away 
down  the  manger.  Here  the  sheep-walks,  which 
run  temptingly  along  the  sides  of  the  manger, 
but  if  they  would  look  forward  will  take  the 
runners  very  little  nearer  the  bottom  where  the 
wheel  lies,  mislead  many ;  and  amongst  the 
rest,  the  fleetest  of  the  gypsies,  who  makes  off 
at  full  speed  along  one  of  them.  Two  or  three 
men  go  still  boldly  down  the  steep  descent, 
falling  and  picking  themselves  up  again ;  and 
Jonathan  Legg,  of  Childrey,  is  the  first  of  these. 
He  has  now  gained  the  flat  ground  at  the  bot- 
tom, where  after  a  short  stagger  he  brings  him- 
self up.  and  makes  straight  for  the  umpires  and 
the  wheel.  The  gypsy  now  sees  his  error ;  and 
turning  short  down  the  hill,  comes  into  the  flat, 
running  some  twenty  yards  behind  Jonathan. 
In  another  hundred  yards  he  would  pass  him, 
for  he  gains  at  every  stride ;  but  it  is  too  late ; 
and  we,  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  cheer  loudly 
when  we  see  Jonathan,  the  man  who  had  gone 
straight  all  the  way,  touch  the  wheel  a  clear  ten 
yards  before  his  more  active  rival. 


182  THE   SCOURING   OF 

I  should  have  liked  to  have  seen  the  boys' 
races  down  the  manger,  but  was  afraid  of  miss- 
ing some  other  sport,  so  I  left  farmer  Whitfield 
at  his  troublesome  post,  shouting  out  the  names 
of  the  boys  and  trying  to  get  them  into  line, 
and  went  back  into  the  Castle,  where  I  found 
a  crowd  round  the  greased  pole ;  and  when  I 
got  up  to  it,  saw  a  heavy-looking  fellow,  stand- 
ing some  five  feet  up  the  pole,  with  one  foot 
in  a  noose  of  cord  depending  from  a  large 
gimlet,  and  the  other  leg  hooked  round  the 
pole.  He  held  in  his  right  hand  another  large 
gimlet,  which  he  was  preparing  to  screw  into 
the  pole  to  support  a  second  noose,  and  gazed 
stolidly  down  at  a  Committee-man,  who  was 
objecting  "  that  this  wasn't  fair  climbing — that 
if  gimlets  and  nooses  were  to  be  allowed,  he 
could  get  up  himself."  I  thought  he  was  right ; 
but  public  feeling  seemed  to  side  with  the 
climber;  so  the  Committee-man  gave  in,  de- 
claring that  there  would  be  no  more  legs  of 
mutton  to  climb  for,  if  any  thing  but  arms  and 
legs  were  to  be  used. 

"  Rather  a  slow  bit  of  sport  this,"  I  said  to 
an. old  gray-headed  man,  who  was  leaning  on 

his    stick    at   my  side,  and    staring  up   at  the 

• 
performer. 


THE  WHITE   HORSE.  183 

"  Ees,  Zur,"  answered  he,  "  I  dwon't  knaow 
but  what  it  be." 

"  Do  you  call  it  fair  climbing,  now  ?  " 

"  Auh,  bless'ee,  not  I.  I  minds  seein'  the 
young  chaps  when  I  wur  a  buoy,  climin'  may- 
powls  a  deal  higher  nor  that,  dree  at  a  time. 
But  now-a-days  'um  be  lazy,  and  afraid  o' 
spwiling  their  breeches  wi'  the  grase." 

"  Are  there  any  maypoles  about  here  now  ?  " 

"  Never  a  one  as  I  knows  on,  Zur,  for  twenty 
mile  round.  The  last  as  I  remembers  wur  the 
Longcott  one,  and  Parson  Watts  of  Uffington 
had  he  sawed  up  nigh  forty  year  ago,  for  fear 
lest  there  should  ha'  been  some  murder  done 
about  'un. 

"  Murder  about  a  maypole !  Why,  how  was 
that?" 

"  Auh !  you  see,  Zur,  this  here  Longcott  may- 
powl  wur  the  last  in  all  these  parts,  and  a  wur 
the  envy  of  a  zight  o'  villages  round  about. 
Zo,  one  cluttery  *  night  in  November,  thirty  of 
our  Ashbury  chaps  thay  started  down  to  Long- 
cott, and  dug  'un  up,  and  brought  'un  cler  away 
on  handspikes,  all  the  waay  to  the  Crown'd  Inn 
at  Ashbury,  and  'tis  quite  vour  mil'd." 

*  "  Chrttery  " — pelting  with  rain. 


184  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"  On  handspikes !  Why,  how  big  was  he, 
then?" 

"Augh !  a  fyeightish  sized  'tin.  How  big? 
whoy  a  sight  bigger,  bless'ee,  nor  that  'un,  and 
all  the  bottom  half  on  'un  solid  oak.  When 
thay  cum  to  put  'un  up  afore  the  bar  winder 
of  the  Crown'd,  a  reached  right  up  auver  the 
tops  o'  the  housen.  But  zoon  arter  a  wur  put 
up,  the  Uffington  chaps  cum  up,  and  tuk  and 
carried  'un  down  ther'.  Ther'  was  a  smartish 
row  or  two  about  'un  at  Uffington  arter  that, 
but  they  watched  'un  night  and  day  ;  and  when 
the  Lambourn  chaps  cum  arter  'un  one  night, 
they  chucked  scaldin'  water  right  auver  'm.  Zo 
then  Parson  Watts,  he  tuk  and  sawed  'un  up, 
and  guv  'un  to  the  owld  women  at  Christmas 
for  virewood." 

I  walked  away  from  the  pole,  turning  over 
in  my  mind  whether  Parson  Watts  was  right 
or  wrong  in  his  summary  method  of  restoring 
peace  to  his  parish,  and,  somehow  or  other, 
found  myself  again  close  under  the  stage. 
Now,  and  throughout  the  day,  I  found  no 
flagging  there ;  whenever  I  passed  there  was 
the  crowd  of  men  standing  round,  and  the  old 
and  young  gamesters  hard  at  work.  So  I 


THE    WHITE    HORSE.  185 

began  to  believe  what  Joe  had  said,  that  the 
countrymen  thought  more  about  these  games 
than  any  thing  else,  and  wouldn't  care  to  go 
to  the  pastime  if  they  were  stopped. 

I  found  that  the  Ashbury  men  were  carrying 
it  all  their  own  way  in  the  wrestling,  and  that 
their  champion,  old  Richens  (the  rat-catcher,  an 
old  gamester  in  his  fiftieth  year),  would  prob- 
ably not  even  have  to  wrestle  at  all ;  for  his 
own  men  were  throwing  all  the  gamesters  of 
the  other  parishes,  and  of  course  would  give 
up  to  him  when  it  came  to  the  last  ties.  The 
men  all  wrestle  in  sides,  at  least  the  old  game- 
sters do ;  so  that  a  man  generally  plays  for  his 
parish,  and  not  for  his  own  head,  which  is  a 
better  thing,  I  think. 

As  to  the  backsword  play,  the  stage  was 
strewed  with  splinters  of  sticks  and  pieces  of 
broken  baskets,  and  many  a  young  gamester 
has  had  his  first  broken  head  in  public.  But, 
for  the  chief  prize,  matters  are  going  hard  with 
Berks  and  Wilts.  The  Somersetshire  old  game- 
sters have  wron  two  heads  to  one  ;  and,  as  they 
have  six  men  in,  and  Berks  and  Wilts  only 
four,  the  odds  are  all  in  favour  of  the  cider 
county,  and  against  the  beer  drinkers. 


186  THE   SCOURING   OF 

In  good  time  up  gets  an  old  gamester,  who 
looks  like  the  man  to  do  credit  to  the  royal 
county.  It  is  Harry  Seeley,  of  Shrivenham, 
the  only  Berkshire  man  in ;  for  there  has  been 
some  difference  between  Berks  and  Wilts,  and 
Harry's  two  mates  haven't  entered  at  all.  So 
he,  being  one  of  the  true  bull-dog  breed,  is  in 
for  his  own  head,  against  all  odds,  and  is  up 
to  play  the  next  Somersetshire  man. 

Harry  is  a  fine  specimen  of  an  Englishman. 
Five  feet  eight  high,  with  a  bullet  head,  and 
light  blue  eye  ;  high-couraged,  cool,  and  with 
an  absolutely  imperturbable  temper.  He  plays 
in  a  blue  shirt,  thin  from  age  and  wear,  through 
which  you  may  see  the  play  of  his  splendid 
arms  and  chest.  His  opponent  is  a  much 
younger  man,  about  the  same  size ;  but  a  great 
contrast  to  Harry,  for  he  has  a  savage  and  sly 
look  about  him. 

They  shake  hands,  throw  themselves  into  po- 
sition, and  the  bout  begins.  Harry  is  clearly 
the  finer  player,  and  his  adversary  feels  this  at 
once ;  and  the  shouts  of  anticipated  victory, 
in  the  Berkshire  tongue,  rouse  his  temper. 

Now  comes  a  turn  of  the  savage  play,  which 
ought  never  to  be  seen  on  a  stage.  The  Som- 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  187 

erset  man  bends  far  back,  and  strikes  tipper 
cuts  at  the  face  and  arms,  and  then  savagely 
at  the  body.  He  is  trying  to  maim  and  cow, 
and  not  to  win  by  fair  brave  play.  The  crowd 
soon  begin  to  get  savage  too ;  upper-cutting  is 
not  thought  fair  in  Berks  and  Wilts ;  a  storm 
begins  to  brew,  hard  words  are  bandied,  and  a 
cry  of  "  Foul,"  and  "  Pull  him  down,"  is  heard 
more  than  once,  and  the  Committee  man,  who 
watches  from  below,  is  on  the  point  of  stopping 
the  bout. 

But  nothing  puts  out  old  Harry  Seeley;  no 
upper  cut  can  reach  his  face,  for  his  head  is 
thrown  well  back,  and  his  guard  is  like  a  rock ; 
and  though  the  old  blue  shirt  is  cut  through  and 
through,  he  makes  no  more  of  the  welts  of  the 
heavy  stick  than  if  it  were  a  cat's  tail.  Be- 
tween the  bouts  his  face  is  cheery  and  confi- 
dent, and  he  tells  his  friends  to  "  hold  their 
noise,  and  let  him  alone  to  tackle  the  chap," 
as  he  hands  round  his  basket  for  the  abound- 
ing coppers. 

Now  I  could  see  well  enough  why  the  par- 
sons don't  like  these  games.  It  gave  me  a 
turn,  to  watch  the  faces  round  the  stage  get- 
ting savage,  and  I  could  see  what  it  might  soon 


188  THE   SCOURING   OF 

get  to  if  there  was  much  of  this  wild  work. 
And  there  were  Master  George,  and  the  two 
Oxford  scholars,  at  the  opposite  corner  of  the 
stage,  shouting  till  they  were  hoarse  for  old 
Seeley,  and  as  savage  and  wicked-looking  as 
any  of  the  men  round  them ;  setting  such  a 
bad  example,  too,  as  I  thought, — whereas  it 
didn't  matter  for  a  fellow  like  me,  who  was 
nobody, — so  I  shouted,  and  threw  my  coppers 
to  old  Seeley,  and  felt  as  wild  as  any  of  them, 
I  do  believe.  Three  bouts,  four  bouts  pass ; 
Harry's  stick  gets  in  oftener  and  oftener.  Has 
the  fellow  no  blood  in  him  ?  There  it  comes 
at  last!  In  the  fifth  bout,  Harry's  stick  goes 
flashing  in  again,  a  fair  down  blow  from  the 
wrist,  which  puts  the  matter  beyond  all  ques- 
tion, as  the  Somersetshire  man  staggers  back 
across  the  stage,  the  blood  streaming  from 
under  his,  hair.  Loud  are  the  shouts  which 
greet  the  fine-tempered  old  gamester,  as  he 
pulls  on  his  velveteen  coat,  and  gets  down 
from  the  stage. 

"  Why,  Harry,  thou'dst  broke  his  yead  second 
bout,  mun,  surely ! "  shout  his  admirers. 

"  No,"  says  Harry,  dogmatically,  "  you  see, 
mates,  there's  no  'cumulation  of  blood  belongs 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  189 

to  thay  cider-drinking  chaps,  as  there  does  to 
we  as  drinks  beer.  Besides,  thay  drinks  vine- 
gar allus  for  a  week  afore  play  in',  which  dries 
up  most  o'  the  blood  as  they  has  got ;  so  it 
takes  a  'mazin'  sight  of  cloutin'  to  break  their 
yeads  as  should  be." 

After  this  bout  all  the  other  play  seemed  to 
Tse  tasteless ;  so,  promising  myself  to  come  back 
and  see  the  ties  played  off,  (unless  Miss  Lucy 
turned  up  in  the  mean  time,  in  which  case  I 
shouldn't  have  dared  to  go  near  the  stage,  and  in 
fact  I  felt  rather  nervous  already,  lest  she  should 
have  seen  or  heard  of  me  there,)  I  marched 
off,  and  joined  the  crowd  which  was  collecting 
round  the  jingling  ring.  That  crowd  was  one 
of  the  pleasantest  sights  of  the  whole  day.  The 
jingling  match  seemed  a  very  popular  sport, 
especially  with  the  women.  There  they  were, 
of  all  ranks — for  I'm  certain  I  saw  some  young 
ladies  in  riding  habits,  and  others  in  beautiful 
muslins,  whom  I,  and  Jem  Fisher,  and  little 
Neddy  have  often  seen  riding  with  very  great 
people  in  the  Park,  when  we  have  managed  to 
get  down  to  Rotten  Row  on  summer  evenings 
— seated  on  the  grass  or  standing  round  the 
ring,  in  all  sorts  of  dresses,  from  fine  silks  down 


190  THE   SCOURING  OF 

to  cottons  at  2d.  a  yard,  and  all  looking  plea- 
sant and  good-tempered,  and  as  if  they  were 
quite  used  to  being  mixed  up  like  this  every  day 
— which  I'm  sure  I  wish  they  were,  for  my  part, 
especially  if  the  men  were  allowed  to  join  in  the 
crowd  too,  as  we  were  round  the  jingling  ring. 
For  there  were  gentlemen,  both  parsons  and 
others,  and  farmers,  and  ploughboys,  and  all 
manner  of  other  men  and  boys. 

I  don't  know  what  sort  of  fun  a  jingling 
match  is  in  general,  but  I  thought  this  one 
much  the  slowest  game  I  saw.  The  ring  must 
have  been  forty  yards  across,  or  thereabouts, 
and  there  were  only  eight  blindfolded  men  run- 
ning after  the  bellman.  To  make  it  good  fun, 
there  should  have  been  twenty-five  or  thirty  at 
least.  Then  the  bellman,  who  has  his  hands 
tied  behind  him,  ought  to  have  the  bell  tied 
round  his  neck,  or  somewhere  where  he  can't 
get  at  it  to  stop  the  ringing ;  but  our  bellman 
had  the  bell  tied  to  his  waistband  behind,  so 
that  he  could  catch  hold  of  it  with  his  hands, 
and  stop  it  when  he  was  in  danger.  Then  half 
the  men  could  see,  I'm  sure,  by  the  way  they 
carried  their  heads  up  in  the  air,  especially  one 
gypsy,  who,  I  think,  won  the  prize  at  last  The 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  191 

men  who  couldn't  see  were  worth  watching,  for 
they  kept  catching  and  tumbling  over  one  an- 
other. One  time  they  made  a  rush  to  the  rope, 
just  where  some  of  the  young  ladies  were  sit- 
ting, and,  as  nearly  as  could  be,  tumbled  over 
among  them.  I  thought  there  would  have  been 
a  great  scrambling  and  screaming ;  not  a  bit  of 
it — they  never  flinched  an  inch,  or  made  the 
least  cry,  and  I  was  very  proud  to  think  they 
were  my  countrywomen.  After  the  bellman  had 
been  caught  about  a  minute,  there  was  a  great 
laugh  at  one  of  the  blinded  men,"  who  made  a 
rush,  and  caught  a  Committee-man,  who  was 
standing  in  the  ring,  in  his  arms.  But  on  the 
whole,  I  thought  the  game  a  poor  one,  and  was 
glad  when  it  was  over. 

I  hurried  away  directly  after  the  jingling 
match,  and  went  across  the  Castle,  and  out  on 
to  the  down  where  the  cart-horse  race  had  been 
run  to  see  the  foot-races,  which  were  run  over 
the  last  half  of  the  same  course,  on  which  ten 
good  stiff  sets  of  hurdles,  at  short  distances 
apart,  had  been  set  up.  I  found  a  debate  going 
on  between  the  umpires  and  some  of  the  men 
as  to  whether  they  were  all  to  start  together. 
The  regular  agricultural  labourers  were  remon- 
strating as  to  some  of  the  candidates. 


192  THE  SCOURING   OF 

"  It  bean't  narra  mossel  o'  use  for  we  chaps 
to  start  along  wi'  thay  light-heeled  gentry,"  said 
one, — "  Whoy,  look  '  ee  here,  zur's  one,  and 
yander's  another,  wi'  a  kind  o'  dancin'  pumps 
on,  and  that  'un  at  tother  end  wi'  a  cricketin' 
waistcut." 

"  And  there's  two  o'  them  little  jockey  chaps 
amongst  'em,  sumweres,  Zur,"  said  another, 
looking  about  for  these  young  gentlemen,  who 
dodged  behind  some  of  the  bigger  candidates. 

"  How  can  we  help  that  ?  "  said  the  umpire. 

"  Auh,  Zur,  thay  be  all  too  nimble  by  half  for 
we  to  be  of  any  account  to  'em,"  persisted  the 
first  speaker.  "  If  twur  for  the  sticks  now,  or 
wrastling — " 

"  Well,  but  what  shall  we  do  then  ?  "  inter- 
rupted the  umpire. 

"  Let  I  pick  out  ten  or  a  dozen  on  'em  to  run 
by  theirselves."  The  umpires  proposed  this  to 
the  rest,  and,  no  one  objecting,  told  Giles,  the 
protester,  to  pick  out  the  ten  he  was  most  afraid 
of.  This  Giles  proceeded  to  do  with  a  broad 
grin  on  his  face,  and  generally  seemed  to  make 
a  good  selection.  But  presently  he  arrived  at, 
and  after  a  short  inspection  passed  over,  a 
young  fellow  in  his  blue  shirt-sleeves  and  a 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  193 

cloth  cap,  who  to  the  umpire's  eye  seemed  a 
dangerous  man. 

"  Why,  Giles,"  said  he,  "  you're  never  going 
to  pass  him  over  ?  " 

"  Auh,  ees,  Zur,"  said  Giles,  "  let  he  'bide 
along  wi'  we  chaps.  Dwont'ee  zee,  he's  a 
tipped  and  naayled  'un  ?  " 

When  Giles  had  finished  his  selection,  the 
first  lot  were  started,  and  made  a  grand  race ; 
which  was  won  by  a  Hampshire  man  from 
Kingsclere,  the  second  man,  not  two  feet  be- 
hind, being  a  young  Wiltshire  farmer,  who, 
having  never  been  beaten  in  his  own  neighbour- 
hood, had  come  to  lose  his  laurels  honourably  at 
the  Scouring. 

The  running  in  the  second  race  was,  of 
course,  not  so  good,  but  much  more  amusing. 
The  "  tipped  and  naayled  'uns  "  were  a  rushing 
lot,  but  very  bad  at  rising.  Hurdle  after  hurdle 
went  down  before  them  with  a  crash,  and  the 
most  wonderful  summersaults  were  executed. 
The  second  hurdle  finished  poor  Giles,  who 
charged  it  manfully,  and  found  himself  the  next 
moment  on  his  broad  back,  gazing  placidly  up 
into  the  evening  sky.  The  cloth  cap,  notwith- 
standing his  shoes,  went  easily  ahead,  and  won 

9 


194  THE   SCOURING  OF 

in  a  canter.  I  heard  one  of  the  umpires  rally- 
ing Giles  afterwards  at  his  want  of  eyes. 

"  Ees,  Zur,"  said  Giles,  hunching  up  his  great 
shoulders,  "  I  wur  tuk  in,  zure  enough.  He  wur 
a  town  chap,  arter  all,  as  wouldn't  ha'  knowed 
a  piece  o'  dumpers  afore  he  cum  across  to 
White  Hos  Hill." 

I  left  the  umpires  now  to  start  the  other 
races,  and  got  back  once  again  into  the  Castle. 
I  was  now  beginning  to  get  very  tired  in  my 
legs,  though  not  in  my  spirits,  so  I  went  and 
sat  down  outside  the  crowd,  which  was  thicker 
than  ever  round  the  stage,  for  the  ties  were 
being  played  out.  I  could  hear  the  umpires 
call  every  now  and  then  for  some  gamester  who 
was  not  forthcoming  to  play  out  his  tie — "  John 
Giles,  if  you  beant  on  the  stage  in  five  minutes, 
to  put  to  with  James  Higgins,  you  shall  lose 
your  head" — through  all  the  cheers  and  shouts, 
which  rose  louder  and  louder  now  that  every 
blow  or  trip  might  decide  the  prizes.  And  while 
I  was  sitting,  the  donkey  races  were  run  out- 
side, and  I  heard  were  very  good  fun ;  especially 
the  last  one,  in  which  no  man  rode  his  own 
donkey,  and  the  last  donkey  had  the  prize.  I 
hope  my  friend,  the  old  suck-woman,  entered 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  195 

neighbour  Thome's  beast,  for  if  she  did,  I'll  be 
bound  he  carried  off  the  prize  for  her.  They 
were  the  only  sports  that  I  didn't-  manage  to  see 
something  of. 

It  was  now  just  five  o'clock,  the  hour  for  the 
pig-race,  which  seemed  to  be  a  most  popular 
sport,  for  most  of  the  lookers-on  at  the  stage 
went  off  to  see  it,  leaving  only  a  select  crowd 
of  old  and  young  gamesters,  most  of  whom  had 
been  playing  themselves,  and  whom  nothing 
could  drag  five  yards  from  the  posts  until  the 
ties  were  all  played  out.  I  was  just  considering 
whether  I  should  move  or  stay  where  I  was, 
when  Master  George  came  striding  by  and 
caught  sight  of  me. 

"  Hullo,"  said  he,  "  how  is  it  you're  not  on 
the  move  ?  You  must  see  the  pig-race  ;  come 
along."  So  I  got  up  and  shambled  along  with 
him. 

The  pig  was  to  be  started  on  the  slope  below 
the  west  entrance,  where  the  old  gentleman  had 
stood  and  lectured  me  the  day  before  about 
Earl  Sidroc.  There  was  the  spring  cart,  cov- 
ered with  a  net,  with  a  fine  young  Berkshire 
pig  in  it,  just  at  the  place  where  the  Bersirkir 
(as  he  called  them)  made  their  last  stand. 


196  THE   SCOURING   OF 

When  we  came  up,  the  runners,  thirty  in  num- 
ber, with  their  coats  and  waistcoats  off,  were 
just  being  drawn  up  in  line  inside  the  Castle, 
from  which  place  they  were  to  be  started,  and 
run  down  through  the  west  entrance  out  on  to 
the  open  down,  at  the  word  "  off."  It  was 
thought  that  this  rush  down  between  the  double 
banks,  covered  thickly  with  the  crowd,  would  be 
the  finest  sight  of  the  race.  But  the  rush  never 
came.  Piggy  was  to  have  five  minutes  law, 
and  the  Committee-man  who  went  down  to 
turn  him  out  put  his  snout  towards  Ashdown 
Park,  and  gave  him  a  push  in  hopes  that  he 
would  take  straight  away  over  the  downs,  and 
so  get  a  good  start.  Of  course,  he  turned  right 
round  and  came  trotting  and  grunting  up 
towards  the  Castle,  to  see  what  all  the  bustle 
could  be  about.  Then  the  crowd  began  to 
shout  at  him,  and  to  press  further  and  further 
down  the  outer  earthworks,  though  all  the  Com- 
mitt§e  were  there  to  keep  the  course  clear  for 
the  regular  runners ;  and  at  last,  before  half  of 
the  five  minutes  were  over,  the  whole  line  broke 
up  with  a  great  shout,  and  the  down  was  cov- 
ered in  a  moment  with  countless  men  and  boys 
in  full  chase  of  Piggy.  Then  the  lawful  candi 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  197 

dates  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  away  they 
went  too,  cleaving  their  way  through  the  press, 
the  Committee  riding  after  them  as  fast  as  was 
safe  in  such  a  crowd,  to  see  fair  play  if  possible 
at  the  finish. 

Ill  a  minute  or  two,  Piggy  was  mobbed,  sur- 
rounded, seized  first  by  one  of  the  crowd,  and 
then  by  a  lawful  runner.  These  tumbled  over 
in  their  struggle  without  loosing  their  hold  and 
more  of  their  friends  over  them,  and  from  the 
middle  of  the  mass  poor  Piggy  sent  up  the 
most  vigorous  and  dismal  squeals,  till  the  Com- 
mittee-men rode  in,  laying  about  with  their 
whips ;  and  Farmer  Whitfield,  springing  off, 
seized  Piggy,  and  in  another  minute  was  can- 
tering away  with  him  towards  Wayland  Smith's 
cave.  Here  he  was  turned  out  again  for  a  fair 
race,  and  was  won  by  Charles  Ebury,  of  Fern- 
ham  ;  who,  fearing  the  results  of  his  racing  per- 
formances, sold  him  at  once  for  lOs.  to  the 
Woolston  carrier.  But  I  am  happy  to  say  that 
he  wasn't  really  hurt,  for  I  went  to  see  him 
some  days  afterwards,  and  found  him  as  hearty 
as  pig  could  be. 

Master  George  and  I  agreed,  as  we  walked 
back  to  the  Castle,  that  it  is  a  shame  to  have  a 
pig-race. 


198  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  let  men  run  any  risk  they 
like  of  broken  heads  or  limbs  for  themselves ; 
they  may  play  or  not  as  they  like.  But  Piggy 
has  no  choice,  and  to  let  him  run  the  risk  of 
having  the  legs  pulled  out  of  his  body  before  he 
is  wanted  for  pork,  isn't  fair." 

"  He  didn't  seem  to  think  it  was,  certainly, 
Sir,"  I  said. 

"  No,"  said  he,  laughing ;  "  did  you  ever  hear 
such  a  song  as  he  made  ?  No  animal  can  talk 
like  a  pig.  He  can  scold  or  remonstrate  just  as 
well  as  a  Christian.  Any  one  who  knows  the 
language  can  tell  you  just  what  he  is  saying. 
Well,"  he  went  on,  "  I  see  you  don't  believe 
me  ;  now  I  will  go  and  hear  what  he  has  to  say 
about  this  proceeding,  and  give  you  it  word  for 
word." 

This  was  what  he  gave  me  afterwards,  with 
the  other  songs  he  had  promised  me : — 

THE   LAY   OF   THE  HUNTED   PIG. 

"  VATHERS,  mothers,  mothers'  zons ! 
You  as  loves  yer  little  wuns ! 
Happy  pegs  among  the  stubble, 
Listen  to  a  tale  of  trouble ; 

Listen,  pegs  in  yeard  and  .stye,  „ 

How  the  Barkshire  chaps  zard  I. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  199 

"  I  mtr  barn  at  Kingstone-Lisle, 
Wher  I  vrolicked  var  a  while, 
As  vine  a  peg  as  e'er  wur  zeen 
(One  of  a  litter  o'  thirteen) 
Till  zome  chaps  wi'  cussed  spite 
Aimed  ov  I  to  make  a  zite, 
And  to  have  a  '  bit  o'  vun,' 
Took  I  up  to  Uffington. 

u  Up,  vorights  *  the  Castle  mound 
They  did  zet  I  on  the  ground ; 
Then  a  thousand  chaps,  or  nigh, 
Eunned  and  hollered  arter  I — 
Ther,  then,  I  till  I  war  blowed, 
Kunned  and  hollered  all  I  knowed, 
When,  zo  zure  as  pegs  is  pegs, 
Eight  chaps  ketched  I  by  the  legs, 
Two  to  each — 't  is  truth  I  tell  'ee — 
Dree  more  clasped  I  round  the  belly  1 
Under  all  they  fellers  lyin' — 
Pegs ! — I  thought  as  I  wur  dyin'. 

"  But  the  Squire  (I  thenks  I  zee  un), 
Varmer  Whitfield  ridin'  wi'  un, 
Fot  I  out  o'  all  thuck  caddie, 
Stretched  athurt  the  varmer's  zaddle— 
Bless  'em,  pegs  in  yeard  and  stye, 
Them  two  vrends  as  stuck  to  I. 

"  Barkshire  men,  vrom  Hill  and  Vale, 
All  as  ever  hears  this  tale, 
If  to  spwoort  you  be  inclined, 
Plaze  to  bear  this  here  in  mind — 
Pegs  beant  made  no  race  to  win, 

*  "  Vorights  " — opposite. 


200 


Be  zhart  o'  wind,  and  tight  o'  skin, 
Dwont'ee  hunt  'em,  but  instead 
At  backswyrd  break  each  other's  yead 
Cheezes  down  the  manger  rowl — 
Or  try  and  clim  the  greasy  powl. 

"  Pegs !  in  stubble  yeard  and  stye, 
May  you  be  never  zard  like  I, 
Nor  druv  wi  greasy  ears  and  tail, 
By  men  and  bwoys  drough  White  Horse  Vale. 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  201 


CHAPTER  VH. 

MASTER  GEORGE  slipped  away  from  me 
somehow,  after  the  pig-race,  so  I  strolled  up 
into  the  Castle  again.  The  sports  were  all 
over,  so  the  theatres  and  shows  were  making  a 
greater  noise  than  ever,  but  I  didn't  feel  inclined 
to  go  to  any  of  them,  and  kept  walking  slowly 
round  the  bank  on  the  opposite  side,  and  look- 
ing down  at  the  fair.  In  a  minute  or  two  I 
heard  cheering,  and  saw  an  open  carriage,  with 
postilions,  driving  out  of  the  Castle,  and  three 
or  four  young  ladies  and  a  gentleman  or  two 
cantering  along  with  it.  I  watched  them  for 
some  way  across  the  downs,  and  thought  how 
nice  it  must  be  to  be  able  to  ride  well,  and  to 
have  nice  horses  to  go  galloping  over  the  springy 
downs,  into  the  golden  sunset,  putting  up  the 
larks  and  beautiful  little  wheatears  ;  and,  besides 
all  that,  to  have  all  the  people  cheering  one 
too !  So  down  I  went  into  the  crowd,  to  find 

9* 


202  THE   SCOURING  OF 

out  who  they  were.  It  was  Lord  Craven  and 
his  party,  the  first  man  I  came  across  told  me  ; 
and  then  I  quite  understood  why  this  carriage 
should  be  the  only  one  to  come  inside  the  Cas- 
tle, and  why  the  people  should  cheer ;  because, 
you  see,  the  White  Horse,  and  Dragon's  Hill, 
and  the  Manger,  all  belong  to  him,  and  he  is 
very  good-natured  in  letting  everybody  go  there 
and  do  pretty  much  what  they  please.  There 
were  other  carriages  going  off  now  from  the 
row  outside,  and  coachmen  bringing  up  their 
horses  to  harness,  and  a  few  of  the  foot  people 
who  came  from  the  longest  distances,'  starting 
along  the  Ridgeway,  or  down  the  Uffington 
Road.  I  was  standing  watching  'all  this,  and 
thinking  how  I  was  to  find  my  party,  and 
whether  I  should  go  behind  in  the  four-wheel 
(which  I  began  to  feel  very  much  inclined  to 
do,  for  I  was  getting  tired,  and  it  would  be 
dark),  when  I  saw  Joe  bustling  about  amongst 
the  crowd,  and  looking  out  for  some  one  ;  so  I 
made  across  to  him. 

"  Ah,  there  you  are,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he 
caught  sight  of  me,  "  I've  been  hunting  for  you  ; 
it's  all  over  for  to-day.  Lu  sent  me  after  you 
to  come  and  have  some  tea.  If  you  like,  you 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  203 

can  go  home  directly  afterwards  with  her  and 
Mr.  Warton." 

I  was  much  pleased  to  hear  that  Miss 
Lucy  had  sent  after  me,  but  I  didn't  want  to 
show  it. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh,"  said  Joe,  "  I  shan't  leave  till  all  the 
Committee  go ;  I  must  be  at  the  giving  away 
of  the  prizes  in  the  tent ;  and  then,  if  any  thing 
should  happen  afterwards — any  row,  you  know, 
or  that  sort  o'  thing — I  shouldn't  like  to  be 
gone." 

I  didn't  say  any  thing  more,  as  I  thought  I 
might  just  as  well  leave  it  open  ;  so  I  followed 
him  to  the  west  side  of  the  Castle,  where  the 
police  tent  stood,  and  it  was  quite  quiet. 

"  Here  they  are,"  said  Joe,  "  over  in  the 
ditch ; "  and  he  scrambled  up  the  bank,  and  I 
after  him,  and  in  the  ditch  below  sure  enough 
was  a  most  cozy  tea-party.  Miss  Lucy,  with 
her  bonnet  off,  was  sitting  cutting  up  a  cake, 
and  generally  directing.  Two  other  young 
women,  nice  fresh-looking  girls,  but  not  to  be 
named  with  her,  were  setting  out  a  few  cups 
and  saucers  and  plates,  which  they  had  bor- 
rowed from  some  of  the  stalls.  Mr.  Warton 


204  THE    SCOURING   OF 

was  on  his  knees  with  his  hat  off,  blowing  away 
till  he  was  red  in  the  face  at  a  little  fire  made 
of  chips  and  pieces  of  old  hampers,  over  which 
the  kettle,  also  borrowed,  hung  from  three  sticks 
driven  into  the  ground  so  that  their  tops  met 
above  the  fire.  Two  or  three  young  farmers  sat 
about  looking  on,  or  handing  things  as  they  were 
wanted,  except  one  impudent  young  fellow  of 
about  eighteen,  with  scarcely  a  hair  on  his  chin, 
who  was  almost  in  Miss  Lucy's  pocket,  and 
was  meddling  with  every  thing  she  was  doing. 

"  Well,  here  you  are,  at  last,"  said  she,  look- 
ing up  at  us ;  "  why,  where  have  you  been  ah1 
day  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  have  been  hunting  after  you 
very  often,"  said  I,  which,  perhaps,  was  rather, 
more  than  I  ought  to  have  said ;  "  but  it  isn't 
easy  for  one  who  is  a  stranger  to  find  people  in 
such  a  crowd." 

"  I  don't  know  that,"  said  she,  with  a  pretty 
little  toss  of  her  head ;  "  where  there's  a-  will 
there's  a  way.  If  I  hadn't  found  friends,  I 
might  have  been  alone  all  day — and  there  are 
three  or  four  of  the  shows  I  have  never  seen, 
now." 

I  began  to  look  as  sorry  as  I  could,  while  I 


THE   WHITE  HOESE.  205 

thought  what  to  answer,  when  the  young  man 
who  was  close  to  her  tried  to  steal  some  of  the 
cake  ;  she  turned  round  quickly,  and  rapped  his 
fingers  with  the  back  of  her  knife,  and  he  pre- 
tended to  be  hurt.  She  only  laughed,  and  went 
on  cutting  up  the  cake,  but  she  called  him  Jack, 
and  seemed  so  intimate  with  him  that  it  put 
me  out,  and  I  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of  the 
circle,  some  way  off. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  the  Parson,  looking  up 
from  the  fire  ;  "  boils  splendidly — give  me  the 
tea." 

Miss  Lucy  handed  him  a  little  parcel  of  tea 
from  her  bag,  and  he  put  it  into  the  kettle. 

"  I  declare  we  have  forgotten  the  milk,"  said 
she ;  "  do  run  and  fetch  it,  Jack — it's  in  a  bottle 
under  the  back  seat  of  the  four-wheel." 

I  jumped  up  before  Jack,  who  hardly  moved, 
and  ran  off  to  fetch  the  milk;  for  which  she 
gave  me  a  pleasant  smile  when  I  came  back, 
and  I  felt  better  pleased,  and  enjoyed  the  tea 
and  cake  and  bread  and  butter,  and  all.  the  talk 
over  it,  very  much  ;  except  that  I  couldn't  stand 
this  Jack,  who  was  forcing  her  to  notice  him 
every  minute,  by  stealing  .her  teaspoon  or  her 
cake,  or  making  some  of  his  foolish  remarks. 


206  THE   SCOURING   OF 

The  sun  set  splendidly  before  we  had  fin- 
ished, and  it  began  to  get  a  little  chilly. 

"  Well,"  said  Joe,  jumping  up,  "  I'm  off  to  get 
the  horse  put  to.  You'd  better  be  starting,  Lu  ; 
you  won't  be  down  hill  much  before  dark,  now, 
and  there's  no  moon — worse  luck." 

"  Very  well,"  said  she,  taking  up  her  bonnet, 
and  putting  it  on  ;  "we  shall  be  ready  in  five 
minutes." 

"  You'll  go  behind  with  them,  I  suppose," 
said  Joe  to  me. 

"  I'm  to  have  a  seat,  mind,"  struck  in  that 
odious  Jack  ;  "  Lucy  promised  me  that  an  hour 
ago."  I  could  have  given  him  a  good  kick; 
however,  I  don't  think  I  showed  that  I  was  put 
out. 

"  How  can  you  tell  such  fibs,  Jack  ?  "  said 
she ;  but  I  didn't  take  any  notice  of  that. 

"  Thank  you,  I  wish  to  stay  on  the  hill,"  said 
I.  "  Besides,  the  four-wheel  will  be  full  without 
me." 

She  didn't  seem  to  hear ;  and  began  talking 
to  one  of  the  other  girls. 

"  But  how  are  you  to  get  down  ?  "  said  Joe. 

"  Oh,  I  can  walk,"  said  I,  "  or  ride  behind 
you." 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  207 

"  Very  good,  if  you  like,"  said  he ;  "  the 
chestnut  would  carry  six,  if  her  back  was  long 
enough  ; "  and  away  he  went  to  get  the  four- 
wheel  ready. 

.  We  followed ;  Miss  Lucy  sticking  close  to 
her  friend,  and  never  saying  a  word  to  any  of 
us.  I  walked  with  Mr.  Warton,  who  was  in 
the  highest  spirits,  looking  over  his  shoulder, 
and  raving  about  the  green  tints  in  the  sunset. 

When  we  got  to  the  carriages,  there  was  kiss- 
ing and  shaking  of  hands,  and  the  rest  went  off, 
while  the  parson  and  Miss  Lucy  packed  into 
the  front  seat,  and  Jack  and  Jem  the  carter-boy 
into  the  hind  seat  of  the  four-wheel ;  and  away 
they  drove,  wishing  us  "  good  night."  I  watched 
them  for  some  time,  and  could  see  Jack  leaning 
forward  close  to  her  ear ;  and  turned  back  with 
Joe  into  the  Castle,  more  out  of  sorts  than  I 
had  been  since  I  left  London. 

Joe  hurried  off  to  the  police  tent,  where  the 
Committee  were  giving  away  the  prizes,  saying 
I  should  find  him  there  when  I  wanted  him; 
and  I  loitered  away  to  see  whatever  was  to  be 
seen.  At  first  nothing  seemed  to  please  me.  I 
watched  the  men  and  boys  playing  at  three 
sticks  a  penny,  and  thought  I  might  as  well 


208  THE  SCOURING   OF 

- 

have  been  on  Primrose  Hill.  Then  I  went  and 
looked  at  the  shows  ;  and  there  was  the  fellow 
in  flesh-coloured  tights,  turning  over  and  over 
on  the  slack  rope,  and  the  clarionet  and  French 
horn  and  drum,  played  by  the  three  men  in  cor- 
duroys, all  out  of  tune  and  louder  than  ever,  as 
if  they  had  only  just  begun,  instead  of  having 
been  screaming  and  rumbling  away  all  day; 
and  the  man  outside  the  pink-eyed  lady's  cara- 
van was  shouting  away  for  the  hundredth  time 
all  about  her,  and  then  playing  the  pan-pipes,  as 
if  no  other  woman  in  the  world  had  pink  eyes. 

I  was  determined  they  shouldn't  have  any  of 
my  money  at  any  rate,  so  I  strolled  further 
down  the  line,  and  looked  into  a  low  booth 
where  a  fiddle  was  going.  Here  several  couples 
were  dancing,  with  their  arms  a-kimbo,  on  some 
planks  which  had  been  put  down  on  the  grass, 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  booth  was  crowded  with 
others  looking  on.  This  pleased  me  better,  for 
the  dancers  seemed  to  enjoy  themselves  wonder- 
fully, and  made  a  sort  of  clattering  accompani- 
ment to  the  music  with  their  hob-nailed  shoes, 
which  was  merry  and  pleasant. 

When  I  was  tired  of  watching  them,  I 
thought  I  would  go  and  find  Joe;  so  I  went 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  209 

over  to  the  tent,  and  there  I  got  all  right,  and 
began  to  enjoy  myself  again. 

In  the  further  corner  of  the  tent,  the  Squire 
and  another  justice  were  sitting,  and  hearing  a 
charge  of  pocket-picking,  of  which  there  were 
only  two  during  the  whole  day,  the  police  told 
me.  Opposite  the  door,  the  rest  of  the  Com- 
mittee were  sitting  at  a  table  and  giving  away 
the  prizes. 

Joe  beckoned  me  in,  and  I  went  round  to  the 
back  of  the  table  and  looked  on-  As  the  men 
came  up  from  the  group  round  the  door,  when 
their  names  were  called  out,  the  umpires  said  a 
few  words  to  each  of  them,  and  then  gave  them 
their  prizes,  and  most  of  them  made  some  sort 
of  speech  in  answer ;  for  they  were  much  less 
shy  than  in  the  morning,  I  suppose  from  the 
sense  of  having  earned  their  right  to  hold  up 
their  heads  by  winning.  The  owner  of  the 
successful  donkey  was  just  carrying  out  the 
flitch  of  bacon  when  I  arrived ;  after  him  the 
Somersetshire  backsword  players  were  called  in 
to  take  the  first  three  prizes  for  that  sport,  they 
having  beaten  all  the  Wiltshire  men ;  while  old 
Seeley,  the  only  Berkshire  man  entered,  to 
everybody's  surprise  had  not  played  out  his 


210  THE  SCOURING   OF 

tie,  but  had  given  his  head  (as  they  said)  to 
his  second  opponent.  Therefore,  although  en- 
titled to  the  last  prize  for  having  won  his  first 
bout,  he  had  not  done  all  his  duty  in  the  eyes 
of  the  umpires,  who  gently  complained,  while 
handing  him  over  his  four  half-crowns,  and 
wondered  that  so  gallant  an  old  gamester,  and 
a  Vale  man,  should  not  have  played  out  his 
ties  for  the  honour  of  the  county. 

"  Well,  gen'l'men,"  said  old  Seeley,  giving  a 
hitch  with  his  shoulders,  "  I'll  just  tell  you  how 
it  was.  You  see,  ther  wur  six  Somersetshire 
old  gamesters  come  up  to  play,  and  ther  wur 
six  of  our  side  to  play  'em ;  dree  Wiltshire  and 
dree  Barkshire,  if  so  be  as  we  could  have  made 
a  party.  But  the  dree  from  Wiltshire  they 
wouldn't  go  in  along  wi'  we,  and  turned  their 
backs  on  me  and  my  two  mates ;  so  my  two 
mates  wouldn't  go  in  at  all,  and  wanted  me  to 
give  out  too.  But  you  see,  gen'l'men,  I'd  a 
spent  a  matter  of  a  pound  over  getting  myself 
a  little  better  food,  and  making  myself  lissom  ; 
so  thinks  I,  I  must  go  up  and  have  a  bout,  let 
it  be  how  t'wool.  And  you  saw,  gen'l'men,  as 
I  played  a  good  stick.  When  it  cum'  to  play- 
ing off  the  ties,  there  wur  dree  Somersetshire 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  211 

tiers,  and  two  of  our  side,  that's  Slade  and  me. 
But  when  a  man  turns  his  back  on  me,  gen'F- 
men,  why  I  turns  my  back  on  him ;  so  I  guv 
my  head  to  young  Mapstone,  and  left  Slade  to 
win  if  he  could.  Though  I  thinks,  if  thay 
Wiltshire  chaps  had  behaved  theirselves  as  thay 
should,  we  might  ha'  had  the  prize,  for  I  knows 
as  I  never  played  freer  in  my  life.  And  I  hopes, 
gen'l'men,  as  you  don't  think  I  wur  afeard  of 
any  man  as  ever  got  on  that  stage.  "  Bless 
you ! "  said  old  Seeley,  warming  up,  "  I  be 
that  fond  o'  thay  sticks,  I  assure  you,  gen'l'men, 
I'd  as  lief  meet  a  man  as  is  a  man  for  a  bout 
wi''thay  sticks,  as  I  would — a  joint  of  roast 
beef." 

Old  Seeley's  speech  carried  conviction,  for 
there  could  be  no  mistake  about  the  tone  in 
which  he  drew  his  last  comparison,  after  a 
moment's  pause  to  think  of  the  thing  he  liked 
best,  and  he  retired  from  the  tent  in  high  favour, 
as  I  think  he  deserved  to  be. 

After  watching  these  doings  for  some  time,  I 
began  to  feel  very  hungry,  for  I  had  eaten 
hardly  any  thing  at  tea,  so  I  told  Joe  that  he 
would  find  me  over  in  the -great  booth  getting 
some  supper,  and  went  out.  It  was  getting 


212  THE  SCOURING   OF 

quite  dark,  and  the  stage  and  poles  looked  black 
and  melancholy  as  I  passed  by  them.  But  the 
publicans'  booths  were  all  lighted  up  inside,  and 
looked  very  cheerful,  and  were  full  of  holiday 
folk,  fortifying  themselves  with  all  sorts  of  meat 
and  drink  before  starting  for  the  descent  of  the 
hill,  and  the  walk  home  in  the  dark. 

I  pushed  my  way  through  the  crowd  round 
the  door,  and  reached  the  bar,  where  the  land- 
lord recognized  me  directly,  and  handed  me 
over  to  Peter,  who  soon  landed  me  at  the  table 
in  the  recess,  which  was  still  well  supplied  with 
cold  joints  and  bread  and  cheese.  While  he 
went  off  to  get  my  plate  and  ale,  I  had  time  to 
look  round.  The  booth  was  much  gayer  than 
the  day  before ;  every  post  was  decked  more  or 
less  with  flowers  and  evergreens,  and  the  flags 
had  been  brought  inside.  The  whole  place  was 
lighted  with  dips  and  flickering  oil  lamps,  which 
gave  light  enough  to  let  one  see  all  parts  of  the 
tent  pretty  clearly. 

There  were  a  good  many  tables  ranged  about ; 
the  one  nearest  to  ours  wasn't  yet  occupied,  but 
at  ah1  the  others  were  groups  of  men  drinking 
beer,  and  some  smoking,  and  talking  eagerly 
over  the  events  of  the  day.  Those  nearest  the 


THE    WHITE   HORSE.  213 

high  table  seemed  under  some  little  restraint, 
and  spoke  low  ;  but  from  the  farther  tables  rose 
a  loud  hum  of  the  broadest  Berkshire,  and  an 
occasional  scrap  of  a  song.  A  few  women 
were  scattered  here  and  there — mostly  middle- 
aged,  hard-working  housewives — watching  their 
good  men,  and  anxious  to  carry  them  off  in 
good  time,  and  before  too  much  of  the  harvest- 
savings  had  found  its  way  to  the  landlord's  till. 
About  the  entrance  was  a  continually-changing 
crowd,  and  the  atmosphere  of  the  whole  was 
somewhat  close,  and  redolent  of  not  very  fra- 
grant tobacco. 

At  the  supper-table  where  I  was,  were  seven 
or  eight  men.  The  one  just  opposite  me  was  a 
strong-built,  middle-aged  man,  in  a  pepper-and- 
salt  riding-coat  and  waistcoat,  with  an  open, 
weather-beaten  face,  and  keen,  deep-set,  gray 
eyes,  who  seemed  bent  on  making  a  good  sup- 
per. Next  above  him  were  the  two  Oxford 
scholars,  but  they  didn't  take  the  least  notice 
of  me,  which  I  thought  they  might  have  done, 
after  our  morning's  ride  together.  They  had 
.  finished  supper,  and  were  smoking  cigars,  and 
chatting  with  one  another,  and  with  the  pepper- 
and-salt  man,  whom  they  called  Doctor.  But 


214  THE   SCOURING   OF 

my  observations  were  soon  cut  short  by  Peter, 
who  came  back  with  my  plate  and  knife  and 
fork,  and  a  foaming  pewter  of  ale,  and  I  set  to 
work  as  heartily  as  the  Doctor  himself. 

"  You'll  find  some  of  this  lettuce  and  water- 
cress eat  well  with  your  beef,  Sir,"  said  he,  push- 
ing across  a  dish. 

"  Thank  you,  Sir,"  said  I ;  «  I  find  that  watch- 
ing the  games  makes  one  very  hungry." 

"  The  air,  Sir,  all  the  downs  air,"  said  the 
Doctor ;  "  I  call  them  Doctor  Downs.  Do  more 
for  the  appetite  in  six  hours  than  I  can  in  a 
week.  Here,  Peter,  get  this  gentleman  some  of 
your  mistress's  walnut  pickles." 

And  then  the  good-natured  Doctor  fell  to 
upon  his  beef  again,  and  chatted  away  with  the 
scholars  and  me,  and  soon  made  me  feel  myself 
quite  at  home.  I  own  that  I  had  done  my 
neighbours  a  little  injustice ;  for  they  were 
pleasant  enough  w-hen  the  ice  was  once  broken, 
and  I  daresay  didn't  mean  to  be  rude  after  all. 

As  soon  as  I  had  finished  my  supper,  the 
shorter  of  the  scholars  handed  me  a  large  cigar, 
the  first  whiff  of  which  gave  me  a  high  idea  of 
the  taste  of  my  contemporaries  of  the  upper 
classes  in  the  matter  of  tobacco. 


THE    WHITE   HORSE.  215 

Just  then  the  verse  of  a  song,  in  which  two 
or  three  men  were  joining,  rose  from  the  other 
end  of  the  tent,  from  amidst  the  hum  of  voices. 

"I  wish  those  fellows  would  sing  out,"  said 
the  short  scholar ;  "  I  can't  make  out  more  than 
a  word  or  two." 

"  You  wouldn't  be  any  the  wiser  if  you 
could,"- said  the  other;  "we  have  ceased  to  be 
a  singing  nation.  The  people  have  lost  the 
good  old  ballads,  and  have  got  nothing  in  their 
place." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  said  the  short  scholar; 
"  I  should  like  to  hear  for  myself,  at  any  rate." 

"What  sort  of  ballads  do  you  mean,  Sir?" 
said  I  to  the  long  scholar. 

"  Why,  those  in  the  Robin  Hood  Garland, 
for  instance,"  said  he.  "  Songs  written  for  the 
people,  about  their  heroes,  and,  I  believe,  by  the 
people.  There's  nothing  of  the  sort  now." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  l  There's  a  Good  Time 
Coming '  ?  "  asked  the  short  scholar. 

"  Well,  it's  the  best  of  them,  I  believe,"  said 
the  other ;  "  but  you  know  it  was  written  by 
Mackay,  an  LL.D.  Besides,  it's  essentially  a 
town  song." 

"  It's   a   tip-top  one,  at  any  rate,"   said  the 


216  THE   SCOURING  OF 

short  scholar ;  "  I  wish  I  could  write  such  an- 
other." 

"  What  I  say,  is,  that  the  popular  songs  now 
are  written  by  litterateurs  in  London.  Is  there 
any  life  or  go  in  '  Woodman  spare  that  Tree,'  or 
«  The  Old  Arm- Chair '  ?  and  they  are  better 
than  the  slip-slop  sentimental  stuff  most  in 
vogue." 

"  What  a  discontented  old  bird  you  are !  " 
said  the  short  scholar ;  "  you're  never  pleased 
with  any  product  of  this  enlightened  century." 

"  Let  the  century  get  a  character,  then ;  when 
it  does,  we  shall  get  some  good  staves.  I'm  not 
particular ;  a  brave  story,  or  a  quaint  story,  or 
a  funny  story,  in  good  rough  verse,  that's  all  I 
ask  for.  But,  where  to  find  one  ?  Here's  the 
Doctor  for  umpire.  I  say,  Doctor,  don't  you 
agree  with  me,  now  ?  " 

"  Not  quite,"  said  the  Doctor,  looking  up  from 
his  cold  beef.  "  I  dare  say  you  wouldn't  think 
them  worth  much ;  but  there  are  plenty  of  bal- 
lads sung  about  which  you  never  hear." 

"  What !  real  modern  ballads,  written  by 
some  of  the  masses,  in  this  century,  for  in- 
stance? Where  did  you  ever  hear  one,  Doc- 
tor ?  What  are  they  like,  now  ?  " 


THE   WHITE    HORSE.  217 

"Well,  my  work  takes  me  a  good  deal  about 
in  queer  places,  and  at  queer  times,  amongst 
the  country  folk,  and  I  hear  plenty  of  them. 
Will  one  about  Lord  Nelson  suit  you  ?  There's 
an  old  patient  of  mine  at  the  next  table  who 
owns  a  little  coal  wharf  on  the  canal;  he  fell 
into  the  lock  one  night,  broke  his  arm,  and  was 
nearly  drowned,  and  I  attended  him.  He  takes 
a  trip  in  the  barges  now  and  then,  which  makes 
him  fancy  himself  half  a  sailor.  I  dare  say  I 
can  set  him  off,  if  he  hasn't  had  too  much 
beer." 

So  the  Doctor  walked  over  to  a  lower  table, 
and  spoke  to  a  grisly-headed  old  man  in  a  velve- 
teen coat  and  waistcoat,  and  a  blue  birdseye- 
neckerchief,  who  seemed  pleased,  and  drew  his 
sleeve  across  his  mouth,  and  cleared  his  throat. 
Then  there  was  a  rapping  on  the  table,  and  the 
old  bargee  began  in  a  rumbling  bass  voice : — 

THE  DEATH  OF  LORD  NELSON. 

Come  all  you  gallant  seamen  as  unites  a  meeting, 

Attend  to  these  lines  I  be  going  to  relate, 
And  when  you  have  heard  them  'twill  move  you  with  pity 

To  think  how  Lord  Nelson  he  met  with  his  fate. 
For  he  was  a  bold  and  undaunted  commander 

As  ever  did  sail  on  the  ocean  so  wide ; 
10 


218  THE   SCOURING   OF 

He  made  both  the  French  and  the  Spaniard  surrender 
By  always  a-pouring  into  them  a  broadside. 

One  hundred  engagements  'twas  he  had  been  into, 

And  ne'er  in  his  life  was  he  known  to  be  beat, 
Though  he'd  lost  an  arm,  likewise  a  right  eye,  boys, 

No  power  upon  earth  ever  could  him  defeat. 
His  age  at  his  death  it  was  forty  and  seven ; 

And  as  long  as  I  breathe,  his  great  praises  I'll  sing; 
The  whole  navigation  was  given  up  to  him, 

Because  he  was  loyal  and  true  to  his  king. 

Then  up  steps  the  doctor  in  a  very  great  hurry, 

And  unto  Lord  Nelson  these  words  did  he  say : 
"  Indeed,  then,  my  Lord,  it  is  I'm  very  sorry, 

To  see  you  here  lying  and  bleeding  this  way." 
"  No  matter,  no  matter  whatever  about  me, 

My  time  it  is  come,  I'm  almost  at  the  worst; 
But  here's  my  gallant  seamen  a-fighting  so  boldly, 

Discharge  off  your  duty  to  all  of  them  first." 

Then  with  a  loud  voice  he  calls  out  to  his  captain, 

"  Pray  let  me,  sir,  hear  how  the  battle  does  go, 
For  I  think  our  great  guns  do  continue  to  rattle, 

Though  death  is  approaching  I  firmly  do  know." 
"  The  antagonist's  ship  has  gone  down  to  the  bottom, 

Eighteen  we  have  captive  and  brought  them  on  board, 
Four  more  we  have  blown  quite  out  of  the  ocean, 

And  that  is  the  news  I  have  brought  you,  my  Lord." 

Come  all  you  gallant  seamen  as  unites  a  meeting, 
Always  let  Lord  Nelson's  memory  go  round, 

For  it  is  your  duty,  when  you  unites  a  meeting, 
Because  he  was  loyal  and  true  to  the  crownd. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  219 

And  now  to  conclude  and  finish  these  verses, 
"  My  time  it  is  come;  kiss  me,  Hardy,"  he  cried. 

Now  thousands  go  with  you,  and  ten  thousand  blessings 
For  gallant  Lord  Nelson  in  battle  who  died. 

Mourn,  England,  mourn,  mourn  and  complain, 
For  the  loss  of  Lord  Nelson,  who  died  on  the  main. 

The  short  scholar  was  in  raptures  ;  he  shouted 
in  the  chorus ;  he  banged  the  table  till  he  upset 
and  broke  his  tumbler,  which  the  vigilant  land- 
lady from  behind  the  casks  duly  noted,  and 
scored  up  to  him. 

I  worked  away  at  my  note-book,  and  man- 
aged to  get  all  the  song,  except  one  verse 
between  the  second  and  third,  which  I  couldn't 
catch. 

"  Bravo,  Doctor !  Here,  waiter,  get  me  another 
tumbler,  and  some  more  gin-punch.  What  a 
stunning  call.  Couldn't  the  old  bird  give  us 
another  bit  of  history  ?  It's  as  good  as  read- 
ing '  Southey's  Life,'  and  much  funnier,"  rattled 
away  the  short  scholar. 

"  What  a  quaint  old  grisly  party  it  is  ! "  said 
the  long  scholar ;  "  I  shall  stand  him  a  pot  of 
beer." 

"  Well,  he  won't  object  to  that,"  said  the 
Doctor,  working  away  at  the  beef  and  pickles. 


220  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"  Here,  waiter,  take  a  pot  of  beer,  with  my 
compliments,  over  to  that  gentleman,"  said  the 
long  scholar,  pointing  to  the  old  bargeman, 
"  and  say  how  much  obliged  we  are  to  him  for 
his  song." 

So  Peter  trotted  across  with  the  liquor,  and 
the  old  man  telegraphed  his  acknowledgments. 

"  By  the  way,  Doctor,"  said  the  short  scholar, 
"  as  you  seem  to  know  a  good  deal  about  these 
things,  can  you  tell  me  what  '  Vicar  of  Bray ' 
means  ?  I  saw  two  men  quarrelling  just  after 
the  games,  and  it  was  all  their  wives  could  do 
to  keep  them  from  fighting,  and  I  heard  it  was 
because  one  had  called  the  other  '  Vicar  of 
Bray.'  " 

"  It  means  'turn-coat'  in  Berkshire,"  answered 
the  Doctor.  "  I  didn't  think  they  used  the  name 
now ;  but  I  remember  the  time  when  it  was  the 
common  term  of  reproach.  I  dare  say  you 
know  Bray,  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  the  short  scholar ; 
"  pretty  village  just  below  Maidenhead.  I  pul- 
led by  it  on  my  way  to  town  last  June." 

"  Yes,  and  it's  hard  on  such  a  pretty  village 
to  have  had  such  a  bad  parson,"  said  the 
Doctor. 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  221 

"  I  say,  Doctor,  give  us  the  '  Vicar  of  Bray,' 
now,  it  will  set  off  some  of  the  singing  birds  at 
the  other  end  of  the  booth  ;  I  can  see  they're 
getting  into  prime  piping  order." 

"  Very  good,  if  you  like  it,"  said  the  Doctor, 
pushing  away  his  plate,  and  taking  a  finishing 
pull  at  his  pewter,  "  only  the  song  is  in  print, 
I  know,  somewhere ;  so  you  mustn't  think 
you've  found  much  of  a  prize,  Sir,"  added  he 
to  me,  for  my  use  of  pencil  and  note-book 
hadn't  escaped  him. 

"  No,  Sir,"  said  I;  "  but  I  should  like  to  hear 
it,  of  all  things." 

So  the  Doctor,  without  further  preface,  be- 
gan in  his  jolly  clear  voice — 

THE  VICAR    OF    BRAY. 

In  good  King  Charles's  golden  days, 

When  loyalty  had  no  harm  in't, 
A  zealous  High-Church  man  I  was, 

And  so  I  gained  preferment. 
To  teach  my  flock  I  never  missed : 

Kings  were  by  God  appointed; 
And  they  are  damned  who  dare  resist, 
Or  touch  the  Lord's  anointed. 

Chorus. — And  this  is  law,  I  will  maintain 

Until  my  dying  day,  sir, 
That  whatsoever  king  shall  reign, 
I'll  be  the  Vicar  of  Bray,  sir. 


222  THE   SCOURING   OF 

When  Royal  James  obtained  the  throne. 

And  Popery  grew  in  fashion, 
The  Penal  Laws  I  hooted  down, 

And  read  the  Declaration ; 
The  Church  of  Rome  I  found  would  fit 

Full  well  my  constitution: 
And  I  had  been  a  Jesuit ; 

But  for  the  Revolution. 

And  this  is  law,  &c. 

When  William,  our  deliverer,  came 

To  heal  the  nation's  grievance, 
Then  I  turned  cat-in-pan  again, 

And  swore  to  him  allegiance ; 
Old  principles  I  did  revoke, 

Set  conscience  at  a  distance, 
Passive  obedience  was  a  joke, 

A  jest  was  non-resistance. 

And  this  is  law,  &c. 

When  glorious  Anne  became  our  queen. 

The  Church  of  England's  glory, 
Another  face  of  things  was  seen, 

And  I  became  a  Tory. 
Occasional  Conformist  case ! 

I  damned  such  moderation ; 
And  thought  the  Church  in  danger  was 

By  such  prevarication. 

And  this  is  law,  &c. 

When  George  in  pudding-time  came  o'er, 
And  moderate  men  looked  big,  sir, 

My  principles  I  changed  once  more, 
And  so  became  a  Whig,  sir. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  223 

And  thus  preferment  I  procured 

From  our  Faith's  great  Defender; 
And  almost  every  day  abjured 

The  Pope  and  the  Pretender. 

For  this  is  law,  &c. 

The  illustrious  House  of  Hanover, 

And  Protestant  Succession, 
By  these  I  lustily  will  swear 

While  they  can  keep  possession ; 
For  in  my  faith  and  loyalty  • 

I  never  once  will  falter, 
But  George  my  king  shall  ever  be, 

Except  the  times  do  alter. 

For  this  is  law,  &c. 

The  short  scholar  was  right  as  to  the  effect 
of  the  Doctor's  song.  It  was  hailed  with  rap- 
turous applause  by  the  lower  tables,  though 
you  would  have  said,  to  look  at  them,  that 
scarcely  a  man  of  the  audience,  except  those 
close  round  the  singer,  could  have  appreciated 
it.  People  don't  always  like  best  what  they 
fully  understand ;  and  I  don't  know  which  is 
the  greatest  mistake,  to  fancy  yourself  above 
your  audience,  or  to  try  to  come  down  to 
them.  The  little  stiffness  which  the  presence  of 
strangers  belonging  to  the  broad-cloth  classes 
had  at  first  created  amongst  the  pastime  folk 
was  wearing  off,  and  several  songs  were  started 


224  THE   SCOURING   OF 

at  once  from  the  distant  parts  of  the  booth,  all 
of  which,  save  one,  came  to  untimely  ends  in 
the  course  of  the  first  verse  or  so,  leaving  the 
field  clear  to  a  ruddy-faced,  smock-frocked  man, 
who,  with  his  eyes  cast  up  to  the  tent-top, 
droned  through  his  nose  the  following  mourn- 
ful ditty  :— 

THE  BARKSHIRE  TRAGEDY. 

A  varmer  he  lived  in  the  West  Countree, 

Hey- down,  bow-down, 
A  varmer  he  lived  in  the  West  Countree, 
And  he  had  daughters  one,  two,  and  dree. 

And  I'll  be  true  to  my  love, 
If  my  love'll  be  true  to  me. 

As  thay  wax  walking  by  the  river's  brim, 

Hey-down,  bow-down, 

As  thay  wur  walking  by  the  river's  brim, 

The  eldest  pushed  the  youngest  in. 

And  I'll  be  true,  &c. 

"  Oh  sister,  oh  sister,  pray  gee  me  thy  hand, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
And  I'll  gee  thee  both  house  and  land." 

And  I'll,  &c. 

"  I'll  neither  gee  thee  hand  nor  glove, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
Unless  thou'lt  gee  me  thine  own  true  love." 

And  I'll,  &c. 


THE   WHITE    HORSE.  225 

So  down  she  sank  and  away  she  swam, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
Until  she  came  to  the  miller's  dam. 

And  I'll,  &c. 

The  miller's  daughter  stood  by  the  door, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
As  fair  as  any  gilly-flow-er. 

And  I'll,  &c. 

"  Oh  vather,  oh  vather,  here  swims  a  swan, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
Very  much  like  a  drownded  gentlewoman." 

And  I'll,  &c. 

The  miller  he  fot  his  pole  and  hook, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
And  he  fished  the  fair  maid  out  of  the  brook. 

And  I'll,  &c. 

"  Oh  miller,  I'll  gee  thee  guineas  ten, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
If  thou'lt  fetch  me  back  to  my  vather  again." 

And  I'll,  &c. 

The  miller  he  took  her  guineas  ten, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
And  he  pushed  the  fair  maid  in  again. 

And  I'll,  &c. 

But  the  Crowner  he  cum,  and  the  Justice  too, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
With  a  hue  and  a  cry  and  a  hulla-balloo. 

And  I'll,  &c. 

10* 


226  THE   SCOURING   OF 

They  hanged  the  miller  beside  his  own  gate, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
For  drowning  the  varmer's  daughter,  Kate. 

And  I'll,  &c. 

The  sister  she  fled  beyond  the  seas, 

Hey-down,  &c. 
And  died  an  old  maid  among  black  savagees. 

And  I'll,  &c. 

So  I've  ended  my  tale  of  the  West  Countree, 
And  they  calls  it  the  Barkshire  Trage-dee. 
And  I'll,  &c. 

"The  Barkshire  Tragedy,  indeed!  Now, 
Doctor,  what  have  you  to  tell  us  about  this  ? 
When  did  it  happen  ?  Who  was  the  lady  ? 
Was  she  drowned  in  the  Thames,  the  Ken- 
nett,  or  where?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  All  I  can  say  is,  she 
was  drowned  before  my  time ;  for  I  remember 
hearing  the  song  when  I  was  a  little  chap  in 
petticoats.  But  the  story  seems  a  common  one. 
There's  a  north-country  ballad  founded  on  it, 
I  know,  but  I  don't  remember  the  name  just 
now." 

" '  The  Bonny  Mill-dams  of  Binnorie,'  is  not 
it?"  said  the  long  scholar. 

"Aye,  that's  the  name,  I  think." 


THE    WHITE   HORSE.  227 

"  Well,  it's  very  odd,  for  we've  got  the  same 
story,  all  but  the  miller,  and  his  daughter  as  fair 
as  any  gilly-ftpwer  (why  are  millers'  daughters 
always  pretty,  by  the  way?),  on  the  Welsh 
marshes,"  said  the  long  scholar. 

"  Then,  Sir,  I  must  call  on  you  to  sing  it. 
The  call  is  with  me  at  our  end  of  the  booth," 
said  the  Doctor.  "And,  Peter,  bring  me  a  little 
cold  gin-and-water,  and  a  pipe.  If  I  must 
breathe  smoke-poison,  I  may  as  well  make  it 
myself,  at  any  rate." 

"  Well,  singing's  rather  more  than  I  bar- 
gained for.  However,  I  suppose  I  mustn't  spoil 
sport ;  so  here  goes." 

THE   DROWNED   LADY. 
Qy.  another  version  of  the  Barkshire  Tragedy  1 

Oh,  it  was  not  a  pheasant  cock, 

Nor  yet  a  pheasant  hen, 
.    But  oh  it  was  a  lady  fair 

Came  swimming  down  the  stream. 

An  ancient  harper  passing  by 

Found  this  poor  lady's  body, 
To  which  his  pains  he  did  apply 

To  make  a  sweet  melody. 

To  cat-gut  dried  he  her  inside, 
He  drew  out  her  back-bone, 


228  THE   SCOURING   OF 

And  made  thereof  a  fiddle  sweet 
All  for  to  play  upon. 

And  all  her  hair  so  long  and  fair, 

That  down  her  back  did  flow, 
Oh  he  did  lay  it  up  with  care, 
'  To  string  his  fiddle  bow. 

And  what  did  he  with  her  fingers 

Which  were  so  straight  and  small  ? 

Oh,  he  did  cut  them  into  pegs 
To  screw  up  his  fid-doll. 

Then  forth  went  he,  as  it  might  be, 

Upon  a  summer's  day, 
And  met  a  goodly  company, 

Who  asked  him  in  to  play. 

Then  from  her  bones  he  drew  such  tones 
As  made  their  bones  to  ache, 

They  sounded  so  like  human  groans, 
Their  hearts  began  to  quake. 

They  ordered  him  in  ale  to  swim, 
For  sorrow's  mighty  dry, 

And  he  to  share  their  wassail  fare 
Essayd  right  willingly. 

He  laid  his  fiddle  on  a  shelf 

In  that  old  manor-hall, 
It  played  and  sung  all  by  itself, 

And  thus  sung  this  fid-doll: — 

M  There  sits  the  squire,  my  worthy  sire, 
A-drinking  his-self  drunk, 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  229 

And  so  did  he,  ah  woe  is  me ! 
The  day  my  body  sunk. 

"  There  sits  my  mother,  half  asleep, 

A-taking  of  her  ease, 
Her  mind  is  deep,  if  one  might  peep, 

In  her  preserves  and  keys. 

"  There  sits  my  sister,  cruel  Joan, 

Who  last  week  drownded  me  ; 
And  there's  my  love,  with  heart  of  stone, 

Sits  making  love  to  she. 

"  There  sits  the  Crowner,  Uncle  Joe, 

Which  comforteth  poor  me ; 
He'll  hold  his  Crowner's  quest,  I  know, 

To  get  his  Crowner's  fee." 

Now  when  this  fiddle  thus  had  spoke 

It  fell  upon  the  floor, 
And  into  little  pieces  broke, 
No  word  spoke  never  more. 

"  Thank  you.  Sir,"  said  the  Doctor ;  "  that's 
a  queer  tune  though.  I  don't  know  that  I  ever 
heard  one  at  all  like  it.  But  I  shouldn't  say 
all  that  song  was  old  now." 

"  Well,  I  believe  you're  right.  But  I  can 
say,  as  you  said  of  the  Barkshire  Tragedy,  it's 
all  older  than  my  time,  for  I  remember  my 
father  singing  it  just  as  I've  sung  it  to  you  as 
long  as  I  can  remember  any  thing." 


230  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"  And  what  did  he  say  of  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  said  that  five  out  of  the  first  six 
verses  were  very  old  indeed.  He  had  heard 
them  often  when  he  was  a  child,  and  always 
the  same  words.  The  rest  was  all  patchwork, 
he  said,  by  different  hands,  and  he  hardly  knew 
which  were  the  old  lines,  and  which  new." 

"  I  say,"  remarked  the  short  scholar,  "  the 
Doctor  don't  seem  to  be  a  bad  hand  at  making 
the  smoke-poison." 

The  Doctor  blew  out  a  long  white  cloud, 
and  was  about  to  reply,  when  a  brawny  young 
carter,  at  a  distant  table,  took  his  pipe  from  his 
lips,  and,  in  answer  to  the  urgings  of  his  neigh- 
bours, trolled  out  the  following  little  piece  of 
sentiment : — 

CUPID'S   GARDEN. 

As  I  wur  in  Cu-bit's  gardin 

Not  mwoar  nor  haf  an  hour, 
'T  wur  ther  I  zeed  two  may-dens 

Zittin  under  Cu-bit's  bower, 
A-gatherin  of  sweet  jassa-mine, 

The  lilly  and  the  rose. 
These  be  the  fairest  flowers 

As  in  the  gardin  grows. 

I  vondly  stepped  to  one  o'  them, 
These  words  to  her  I  zays, 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  231 

"  Be  you  engaged  to  arra  young  man, 

Come  tell  to  me,  I  prays." 
"  I  beant  engaged  to  narra  young  man, 

I  solemnly  declare; 
I  aims  to  live  a  may-den, 

And  still  the  lau-rel  wear." 

Zays  I,  "  My  stars  and  gar-ters ! 

This  here's  a  pretty  go, 
Vor  a  vine  young  mayd  as  never  wos 

To  sar'  all  man-kind  zo." 
But  the  t'other  young  may-den  looked  sly  at  me, 

And  vrom  her  zeat  she  risn, 
Zays  she,  "  Let  thee  and  I  go  our  own  waay, 

And  we'll  let  she  go  shis'n." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  that  beats  all ! "  said  the  short 
scholar,  with  a  shout  of  laughter.  "  I  must 
have  the  words  somehow.  Let's  see,  how  did 
he  begin  ?  something  about  Cubit.  What  a 
rum  notion  to  call  Cupid,  Cubit.  What  was  it, 
Doctor  ?  " 

"  You  shouldn't  laugh,  really,  Sir,  at  our 
west-country  sentiment,"  said  the  Doctor,  with 
astounding  gravity.  "  I  don't  think  I  can  con- 
scientiously help  you  to  the  words,  when  I 
know  you'll  only  be  making  fun  of  them  at 
some  wine-party.  They  are  meant  for  malt 
drinkers,  not  for  wine  drinkers." 

"  Fudge,  Doctor.     Come,  now,  give  us  the 


232  THE   SCOURING  OF 

words,  or  I  shall  have  to  go  over  and  ask  the 
performer  for  them." 

"  I  think  I  can  give  you  them,"  said  I,  look- 
ing up  from  my  note- book. 

"  What  a  thing  it  is  to  write  shorthand ! " 
said  the  Doctor,  glancing  at  my  hieroglyphics ; 
"  we  don't  learn   that   sort   of  thing  down   in 
these  parts." 

"  I  wonder  we  haven't  had  more  sentimental 
songs,"  said  the  long  scholar ;  "  I  suppose  there 
are  plenty  of  love-stories  going  about  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  plenty,"  said  the  Doctor ;  "  mostly 
ballads  telling  how  rich  young  heiresses  dis- 
dained all  good  matches,  for  the  sake  of  a  sailor 
boy  with  tarry  trousers,  or  a  seductive  fogger, 
thereby  provoking  their  cruel  match-making  par- 
ents. For  instance : — 

Says  the  daughter  to  the  mother, <:  Your  art  is  all  in  vain, 
For  Dukes  and  Lords  and  Earls  alike  their  riches  I  disdain; 
I'd  rather  live  a  humble  life,  and  my  time  I  would  employ 
Increasing  nature's  prospects,  with  my  bonny  labouring  boy." 

"  What  on  earth  can  '  increasing  nature's 
prospects'  mean?"  asked  the  long  scholar. 

"  How  can  I  tell  ? "  said  the  Doctor,  laugh- 
ing ;  "  I  don't  pretend  to  construe  ;  I  only  give 
you  the  words.  But  you  must  allow  the  moral 
to  be  good.  It  runs : — 


THE    WHITE  HORSE.  233 

"  Success  to  every  labouring  boy  that  ploughs  and  hoes  the  ground, 
For  when  his  work  is  over,  his  home  he  will  e:ijoy; 
So  happy  is  the  girl  that  gets  a  bonny  labouring  boy." 

"  Let's  see,"  said  the  short  scholar,  "  we've 
had  specimens  of  patriotic,  legendary,  and  senti- 
mental ditties ;  but  how  about  drinking  songs  ? 
All  tuneful  nations,  since  the  world  began,  have 
sung  the  praises  of  good  liquor." 

"  I  don't  know  that  we  have  many  drinking 
songs,"  said  the  Doctor ;  "  I  suppose  it  takes 
wine,  or  spirits  at  any  rate,  to  make  a  man 
write  such  stuff  as.  '  the  glasses  sparkle,'  or  '  a 
bumper  of  Burgundy.'  The  bucolic  muse  only 
gets  smallish  beer.  But  we  must  see  what  we 
can  do  for  you."  So  the  Doctor  beckoned  to 
Peter,  and  sent  him  off  to  the  lower  tables  with 
a  pot  of  beer,  the  speedy  result  of  which  mis- 
sion was  the  following  song : — 

TOVEY'S   TAP.— AIR,  "  Derry  down." 

Owld  Tovey  once  brewed  a  barrel  o'  beer, 
For  he  wur  a  man  as  loved  good  cheer, 
And  za3Ts  he,  "  I'll  jest  ax  a  vcaw  o'  my  vriends 
To  come  and  try  how  the  likker  spends."  * 

Deny  down,  &c. 

*  '•  Spend" — to  consume. 


234  THE   SCOURING   OF 

There's  long  Tom  Ockle,  he  shall  be  one, 
And  little  Jack  Smith,  who's  as  round  as  a  ton, 
And  owld  Gaarge  Mabbutt,  who's  allus  a-dry, 
I'll  warn'd  thay'll  make  good  company. 

Derry  down.  &c. 

The  barrell  wur  tapped,  and  the  beer  runned  well, 
How  much  they  vour  drenked  I  hever  heard  tell ; 
But  zome  how  or  other  they  one  and  all 
Did  zwear  as  how  the  drenk  wur  small. 

Derry  down,  &c. 

Owld  Tovey  at  this  did  look  main  scrow;  * 
Zays  he,  "  My  vriends,  I'd  hev'ee  to  kneow 
That  my  beer  has  made  'ee  as  drunk  as  pegs, 
And  not  one  o'  you  dree  can  kip  on  his  legs." 

Derry  down,  &c. 

They  left  the  house,  and  the  path  they  tuk, 
Athert  the  meadow  as  leads  to  the  bruk ; 
And  you  plainly  med  zee  as  every  man 
Had  a  pair  o'  crooked  stockings  an. 

Derry  down,  &c. 

Zays  Mabbott  to  Ockle,  "  Owld  Tovey  wur  zurly; " 
Zays  Ockle  to  Mabbott,  "  I'm  uncommon  purly;  t 
Be  mindful,  I  zay,  vor  yer  missuses'  zakes, 
Which  o'  them  two  narrer  bridges  you  takes." 

Derry  down,  &c. 

*  The  bruk  is  main  deep,"  Gaarge  Mabbott  then  zaid, 
As  he  looked  at  the  water,  and  scratted  his  yead ; 

*  "  Scrow  " — angry.  t  "  I'urly  " — purblind. 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  235 

And  I  owns  I  should  'mazinly  like  for  to  know 
Auver  which  o'  thay  bridges  you  aims  vor  to  go." 

Derry  down,  &c. 

"  'Tis  a  akkerdish  place  to  crass  in  the  night, 
And  to  stand  here  till  marnin'  wouldn't  be  right; 
'T'aint  a  mossell  o'  use  to  bide  stabbleing  *  here, 
Zo  let's  go  back  and  vinish  the  barrel  o'  beer." 

Derry  down,  &c. 

"  A  good  cast,  Doctor  ;  "  said  the  long  scholar ; 
"  but  you've  raised  the  wrong  fish.  That  isn't 
what  my  friend  here  meant  by  a  drinking  song. 
He  expects  a  bucolic  rendering  of  one  of 
Moore's  songs,  and  you  serve  him  out  a  queer 
pot-house  tale.  Is  there  no  enthusiasm  for 
good  drink  amongst  you  ?  " 

"  I  wish  there  were  less,"  said  the  Doctor, 
with  a  sigh  ;  "at  any  rate,  less  consumption  of 
bad  drink.  Tippling  is  our  great  curse,  as  it  is 
that  of  all  England ;  but  there's  less  of  it  than 
there  used  to  be.  But  for  a  drinking  song  such 
as  you  mean,  I'm  at  fault.  The  nearest  ap- 
proach to  it  that  I  know  of  is  a  song  of  which 
I  only  remember  two  lines.  They  run — 

"  Sartinly  the  sixpenny's  the  very  best  I've  see'd  yet, 
I  do  not  like  the  fourpenny,  nor  yet  the  intermediate. 

*  "  Stabble  " — to  tread  dirt  about. 


236  THE   SCOURING  OF 

But  even  here  you  see,  though  the  poet  was 
meditating  on  drink,  it  was  in  a  practical  rather 
than  an  enthusiastic  spirit." 

Just  then,  a  stout  old  yeoman  entered  the 
booth,  dressed  in  a  broad  straight-cut  brown 
coat  with  metal  buttons,  drab  breeches,  and 
mahogany  tops ;  and,  marching  up  to  the  bar, 
ordered  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water;  while  his 
drink  was  being  prepared,  he  stood  with  his 
back  to  our  table,  talking  to  the  landlord. 

"  We're  in  luck,"  said  the  Doctor  in  a  low 
voice,  pointing  to  the  new-comer  with  the  end 
of  his  pipe ;  "  if  he  stays,  we  shall  have  the 
best  old  song  in  all  the  west  country,  sung  as 
it  should  be." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  short  scholar. 

"  An  old  Gloucestershire  farmer  from  Suthe- 
rup  way,  famous  for  his  breed  of  sheep.  He 
must  be  near  seventy,  and  has  twelve  miles  to 
ride  home  to-night,  and  won't  think  so  much  of 
it  as  you  or  I  would." 

"  He  looks  a  tough  old  blade." 

"  You  may  say  that.  But  he  isn't  the  man 
he  was,  for  he  has  lived  pretty  hard.  He  used 
to  be  a  famous  wrestler ;  and  one  day,  many 
years  ago,  an  Ilsley  dealer  came  down  to  buy 


THE    WHITE  HORSE.  237 

his  flock  of  two-year  olds.  They  drank  six 
bottles  of  port  over  the  deal,  and  got  it  all 
straight  out  except  the  odd  sheep,  but  they 
couldn't  make  out,  cipher  it  how  they  would, 
who  the  odd  sheep  belonged  to  ;  so  they  agreed 
to  wrestle  for  the  odd  sheep  in  the  farmer's 
kitchen,  and  somehow  both  of  them  got  hurt, 
and  the  old  boy  has  never  gone  quite  right 
since." 

"  What  an  old  sponge !  six  bottles  of  port 
between  two  of  them !  no  wonder  they  couldn't 
do  their  sum." 

"  Ah,  we  mustn't  judge  of  the  men  of  his 
time  by  our  rules,"  said  the  Doctor ;  "  it  was 
part  of  a  yeoman's  creed  in  those  days  to  send 
his  friends  off  drunk,  and  to  be  carried  to  bed 
himself  by  his  fogger  and  carter,  or  else  to 
sleep  under  his  kitchen-table.  They  lived  hard 
enough,  and  misused  a  deal  of  good  liquor 
meant  to  strengthen  man's  heart,  following  the 
example  of  their  betters ;  but  they  had  their 
good  points.  That  old  man,  now,  is  the  best 
master  in  all  his  neighbourhood;  and  he  and 
the  parson  keep  up  the  wages  in  the  winter,  and 
never  let  a  man  go  to  the  house  who  will 
work." 


238  THE   SCOURING  OF 

The  old  farmer  turned  round,  glass  in  hand, 
and  came  and  sat  down  at  the  table.  "  Your 
sarvant,  gen'l'men,"  said  he,  taking  off  his  broad- 
brimmed  beaver.  "  Why,  Doctor,"  he  went  on, 
recognizing  our  friend,  and  holding  out  his 
great  bony  hand,  "  be  main  glad  to  zee  'ee." 

"  Thank  you,  farmer,"  said  the  Doctor,  re- 
turning the  grip ;  "  we  haven't  met  this  long 
while ;  I'm  glad  to  see  you  wearing  so  well." 

"  Yes,  I  be  pretty-feteish,  thank  God,"  said 
the  farmer.  "  Your  health,  sir,  and  gen'l'men." 

After  a  little  judicious  talk  on  the  day's 
sport,  the  Doctor  suddenly  began,  "  Now,  far- 
mer, you  must  do  us  a  favour,  and  give  us 
your  famous  old  Gloucestershire  song.  I've 
been  telling  all  our  friends  here  about  it,  and 
they're  keen  to  hear  it." 

"  'Spose  you  means  Gaarge  Ridler  ?  "  said  the 
farmer. 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  I've  zung  these  score 
o'  months,"  said  the  farmer,  "  but  hows'mever, 
if  you  wants  it,  here  goes."  So  the  farmer  fin- 
ished his  brandy  and  water,  cleared  his  throat, 
balanced  himself  on  the  hind  legs  of  his  chair, 
cast  up  his  eyes  and  began — 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  239 

Thaay  stwuns,  thaay  stwuns,  thaay  stwnns,  thaay  stwuns, 
Thaay  stwuns,  thaay  stwuns,  thaay  stwuns,  thaay  stwuns. 

"  "What's  he  saying — what  language  ?  "  whis- 
pered the  tall  scholar. 

"  Mad  old  party,"  murmured  the  short  scholar. 

"  Hush,"  whispered  the  Doctor ;  "  that's  the 
orthodox  way  to  begin  ;  don't  put  him  out." 

I  couldn't  tell  what  in  the  world  to  write,  but 
the  farmer  went  on  with  growing  emphasis — 

Thaay  stwuns,  thaay  stwuns,  thaay  stwuns,  thaay  stwuns, 
Thaay  stwuns,  thaay  stwuns,  thaay  stimms,  THAAY  s,  T,  w,  u,  N,  8. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  during  which 
the  Doctor  had  much  difficulty  in  keeping  order ; 
then  the  farmer  got  fairly  under  weigh,  and 
went  on — 

Thaay  stwuns  that  built  Gaarge  Ridler's  oven 
Oh,  thaay  cum  vrom  the  Blakeney  Quaar, 

And  Gaarge  he  wur  a  jolly  owld  man, 

And  his  yead  did  graw  above  his  yare. 

One  thing  in  Gaarge  Ridler  I  must  commend, 

And  I  hold  it  vor  a  notable  thing: 
He  made  his  braags  avoore  he  died, 

As  wi'  any  dree  brothers  his  zons  zhou'd  zing. 

Ther'  wur  Dick  the  treble,  and  Jack  the  mean, 
Let  every  nion  zing  in  his  auwn  pleace, 


240  THE   SCOURING   OF 

And  Gaarge  he  wur  the  elder  brother, 

And  there-voore  he  would  zing  the  base. 

Droo1  aal  the  world,  owld  Gaarge  would  bwoast, 
Commend  me  to  merry  owld  England  mwoast, 

While  vools  gwoes  scamblin'  vur  and  nigh, 
We  bides  at  whoam,  my  dog  and  I. 

Ov  their  furrin  tongues  let  travellers  brag, 

Wi'  their  vifteen  neames  vor  a  puddin'  bag, 

Two  tongues  I  knows  ne'er  towld  a  lie, 
And  their  wearers  be  my  dog  and  I. 

My  dog  has  got  his  maaster's  nose, 

To  smell  a  knave  droo  silken  hose ; 
But  when  good  company  I  spy, 

"  Welcome,"'  quoth  my  dog  and  I. 

When  I  hev  dree  sixpences  under  my  thumb, 
Oh  then  I  be  welcome  wherever  I  cua; 

But  when  I  hev  none,  0  then  I  pass  by ; 
'Tis  poverty  pearts  good  company. 

When  I  gwoes  dead,  as  it  may  hap, 

My  grave  shall  be  under  the  good  yeal-tap, 

Wi'  vaulded  earmes  ther'  wool  I  lie, 
Cheek  by  jowl  my  dog  and  I. 

Just  as  the  farmer  was  finishing  the  song, 
Master  George,  with  Joe  and  one  or  two  more 
behind  him,  came  in.  He  took  up  the  last 
verse,  and  rolled  it  out  as  he  came  up  towards 
our  table,  and  a  lot  of  the  rest  joined  in  with 


THE  WHITE   HORSE.  241 

him;  even  the  over- worked  Peter,  I  could  see 
stopping  for  a  moment  to  shout  that  he 
would  be  buried  under  the  tap ;  I  dare  say  he 
meant  it,  only  I  think  he  would  like  it  to  be 
always  running. 

Master  George  knew  most  of  the  people,  and 
made  us  all  merrier  even  than  we  were  before ; 
and  in  the  next  half-hour  or  so,  for  which  time 
we  stayed  in  the  booth,  I  should  think  there 
must  have  been  a  dozen  more  songs  sung. 
However,  I  shall  only  give  the  one  which 
seemed  to  be  the  greatest  favourite,  for  I  find 
that  this  chapter  is  running  very  long.  This 
song  was  sung  by  a  queer  little  man,  with  a 
twisted  face,  and  a  lurcher  dog  between  his 
knees,  who  I  believe  was  an  earth  stopper. 
He  called  it 

BUTTERMILK  JACK. 

Ther  vnir  an  owld  'oman  as  had  but  one  son, 

And  thay  lived  together  as  you  med  zee ; 

And  they'd  nought  but  an  owld  hen  as  wanted  to  sett, 

Yet  somehow  a  landlord  he  fain  would  be. 

"  Oh,  I've  been  and  begged  me  some  buttermilk,  mother, 
OS  of  an  owld  'oman  as  has  girt  store ; 
And  I  shall  well  rewarded  be, 
Vor  she's  g'in  me  haf  a  gallon  or  mwore. 
11 


242  THE   SCOURING  OF 

"  Oh  mother,  my  buttermilk  I  will  sell, 
And  all  for  a  penny  as  you  med  zee; 
And  with  my  penny  then  I  will  buy  eggs, 
Vor  I  shall  have  seven  for  my  penney. 

"  Oh  mother,  I'll  set  them  all  under  our  hen, 
And  seven  cock  chickens  might  chance  for  to  be; 
But  seven  cock  chickens  or  seven  cap  hens, 
There'll  be  seven  half-crownds  for  me. 

"  Oh,  I'll  go  carry  them  to  market,  mother, 
And  nothing  but  vine  volk  shall  I  zee ; 
And  with  my  money  then  I  will  buy  land, 
Zo  as  a  landlord  I  med  be." 

"  Oh  my  dear  zon,  wilt  thee  know  me, 
When  thee  hast  gotten  great  store  of  wealth  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  mother,  how  shall  I  know  thee, 
When  I  shall  hardly  know  my  own  self?  " 

With  that  the  owld  'oman  she  flew  in  a  passion, 

And  dashed  her  son  Jack  up  agin  the  wall, 

And  his  head  caught  the  shelf  where  the  buttermilk  stood, 

So  down  came  the  buttermilk,  pitcher  and  all. 

Zo  aal  you  as  has  got  an  old  hen  for  to  sett, 

Both  by  night  and  by  day  mind  you  has  her  well  watched, 

Lest  you  should  be  like  unto  Buttermilk  Jack, 

To  reckon  your  chickens  before  thay  are  hatched. 

"  Well,  I  must  be  moving,"  said  the  Doctor 
at  last,  looking  at  his  watch  ;  "  how  do  you  get 
home,  Mr.  Hurst  ?  " 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  243 

"  Bless  us !  near  nine  o'clock,"  said  Joe,  fol- 
lowing the  Doctor's  example ;  "  oh,  I  ride  my- 
self, and  my  friend  here  talks  of  going  behind." 

"  Better  not  ride  double,  the  night's  dark," 
said  the  Doctor,  hoisting  on  his  overcoat  with 
Peter's  help.  "  If  he  likes  to  take  his  luck  in 
my  gig,  I  can  put  him  down  at  your  gate. 
What  do  you  say,  Sir  ?  " 

I  thankfully  accepted ;  for  I  didn't  at  all  like 
the  notion  of  riding  behind  Joe  on  the  chestnut, 
and  I  can't  think  how  I  could  ever  have  been 
such  a  fool  as  to  say  I  would  do  it.  The  Doc- 
tor had  two  bright  lamps  to  his  gig,  which  gave 
us  glimpses  of  the  closed  booths  and  camping 
places  of  the  people  who  were  going  to  stay  on 
the  hill  all  night,  as  we  drove  out  of  the  Castle. 
I  suggested  that  it  must  be  very  bad  for  the 
people  sleeping  out  up  there. 

"  For  their  health  ?  "  said  he,  «  not  a  bit  of  it, 
on  a  fine  night  like  this — do  'em  good ;  I  wish 
they  always  slept  so  healthily." 

"  I  didn't  quite  mean  that,  Sir !  " 

"  Oh,  for  their  morals  ?  Well,  I  don't  know 
that  there's  much  harm  done.  I'm  sorry  to  say 
they're  used  to  crowding — and,  after  all,  very 
few  but  the  owners  of  the  booths,  and  the  regu- 


244  THE   SCOURING   OF 

lar  tramps,  stay  up  here.  Didn't  you  see  hem 
quiet  every  thing  was  ?  " 

I  said  I  had  noticed  this ;  and  then  he  began 
asking  me  about  the  sports,  for  he  had  only  got 
on  to  the  hill  late  in  the  afternoon ;  and  when 
we  came  to  the  wrestling  and  backsword  play, 
I  asked  him  whether  he  thought  they  did  any 
harm. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  there  are  very  few  serious 
accidents — in  fact  none — now  that  drink  is  not 
allowed  on  the  stage.  There  used  to  be  some 
very  brutal  play  in  out-of-the-way  places,  where 
the  revels  were  got  up  by  publicans.  But  that 
is  all  over,  at  least  about  this  part  of  the 
country." 

"  Then  you  wouldn't  stop  them.  Sir  ?  " 

"  Stop  them!  not  I — I  would  encourage  them, 
and  make  the  parish  clerk  and  constable  perpet- 
ual umpires."  And  then  he  went  on  to  say 
how  he  should  like  to  see  the  young  fellows  in 
every  parish  drilled  in  a  company,  and  taught 
all  sorts  of  manly  exercises,  and  shooting  espe- 
cially ;  so  that  they  would  make  good  light 
troops  at  a  day's  notice,  in  case  of  invasion. 
But  he  was  afraid  the  great  game  preservers 
would  never  allow  this.  And  in  the  middle  of 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  245 

his  talk,  which  seemed  very  sensible,  we  came 
to  Joe's  gate,  and  I  got  down,  and  wished  him 
good  night. 

I  found  the  family  gone  to  bed,  and  only  Joe 
and  the  Parson  in  the  kitchen,  and  there,  over  a 
last  pipe,  we  chatted  about  the  sports. 

At  last  the  Parson  turned  to  me,  and  said, 
"  You  saw  a  good  deal  of  the  play  on  the  stage ; 
now,  would  you  stop  it  if  you  could  ?  " 

I  thought  a  minute  over  what  I  had  seen,  and 
what  the  Doctor  had  said. 

"  No,  Sir,"  said  I,  «  I  can't  say  that  I  would." 

"  That's  candid,"  said  he.  "  And  now  I'll 
make  an  admission.  There's  a  good  deal  of  the 
play  that  wants  very  close  watching.  The  um- 
pires should  be  resolute,  quick  men,  and  stand 
no  nonsense.  I  saw  one  or  two  bouts  to-day 
that  should  have  been  stopped." 
.  "  You  see,"  said  Joe,  taking  his  pipe  out  of 
his  mouth,  "  there  allus  must  be." 

"  We  don't  admit  your  evidence,  Joseph," 
interrupted  the  Parson,  "  you  are  a  prejudiced 
witness." 

"  But  you  haven't  changed  your  mind,  Sir," 
said  L 

"  No,"  said  he,   "  I  should  be  sorry  to  hear 


246  THE    SCOURING   OF 

that  these  sports  had  died  out,  but  I  should  like 
to  hear  that  people  took  an  interest  in  them 
who  could  manage  the  men  thoroughly." 

"  The  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  as  we  drove  home, 
said  he  would  have  the  parish  clerk  and  con- 
stable for  perpetual  umpires." 

"  They  wouldn't  be  so  good  as  the  parson  or 
the  squire,"  said  he ;  "  if  I  were  rector  of  one 
of  the  parishes  where  they  are  still  kept  up,  I 
would  give  prizes  for  them,  but  I  would  always 
be  umpire  myself." 

"  I  wish  to  goodness  you  was  then,"  said  Joe, 
as  we  lighted  our  candles. 

"  You  remember,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  that  you 
promised  to  write  a  sermon  about  the  pas- 
time." 

"  What !  "    after  the  fair  ?  "    said  he. 

"  'Twill  do  just  as  well,"  said  Joe,  "  I  should 
mortally  like  to  hear  it." 

"  Well,  it  might  keep  you  awake  perhaps. 
He  has  an  hereditary  weakness  for  slumber  in 
church,  you  must  know,"  said  the  Parson,  turn- 
ing to  me ;  "  when  we  wanted  to  alter  the  sit- 
tings in  the  church  six  or  seven  years  ago,  his 
father  stood  out  for  his  old  high  box  so  sturdily, 
that  I  took  some  pains  to  argue  with  him,  and 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  247 

to  find  out  what  it  was  which  made  it  so  dear 
to  him.  I  found  out  at  last  that  it  was  a  snug 
corner,  which  just  fitted  his  shoulders,  where 
nobody  could  see  him,  and  where,  as  soon  as 
the  text  was  given  out,  in  his  own  words,  "  I 
just  watches  my  missus  wipe  her  spectacles, 
and  fix  herself  to  listen,  and  then  I  vaulds  my 
arms  and  thenks  o'  nothin'." 

I  looked  at  Joe  to  see  how  he  would  take  it, 
but  he  only  chuckled,  and  said,  "  Well,  'tis  the 
parson's  business  to  keep  us  awake.  But  a 
sermon  on  our  sports,  just  showing  folk  about 
the  rights  on  it,  is  just  what  I  should  amazingly 
like  to  have  by  me." 

The  Parson  looked  at  Joe  for  a  moment  very 
curiously,  and  then  said,  "  Very  well,  I  will 
write  you  one.  Good  night." 

And  so  we  went  off  to  bed. 


248  THE  SCOURING  OF 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Miss  LUCY  couldn't  be  spared  to  go  up  to 
the  hill  on  the  second  day  of  the  pastime,  for 
there  was  some  great  operation  going  on  in 
the  cheese  room,  which  she  had  to  overlook. 
So  Mr.  Warton  drove  me  up  in  the  four-wheel. 
I  was  very  anxious  to  find  out,  if  I  could, 
whether  there  was  any  thing  more  between  him 
and  Miss  Lucy  than  friendship,  but  it  wasn't  at 
all  an  easy  matter.  First  I  began  speaking  of 
the  young  gentleman  who  had  taken  my  place 
in  the  four-wheel ;  for  I  thought  that  would  be 
a  touchstone,  and  that  if  he  were  like  me  he 
would  be  glad  to  get  a  chance  of  abusing  this 
Jack.  But  he  only  called  him  a  forward  boy, 
and  said -he  was  a  cousin  of  the  Hursts,  who 
lived  in  the  next  parish.  Then  I  spoke  of  Miss 
Lucy  herself,  and  he  was  quite  ready  to  talk 
about  her  as  much  as  I  liked,  and  seemed  never 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  249 

tired  of  praising  her.  She  was  a  thoroughly 
good  specimen  of  an  English  yeoman's  daugh- 
ter ;  perfectly  natural,  and  therefore  perfectly 
well  bred ;  not  above  making  good  puddings 
and  preserves,  and  proud  of  the  name  her  broth- 
er's cheeses  had  won  in  the  market,  yet  not  neg- 
ligent of  other  matters,  such  as  the  schools,  and 
her  garden ;  never  going  into  follies  of  dress  in 
imitation  of  weak  women  who  ought  to  set 
better  examples,  yet  having  a  proper  apprecia- 
tion of  her  own  good  looks,  and  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  colours  and  shapes  which 
suited  her  best;  not  particularly  clever  or  well 
read,  but  with  an  open  mind  and  a  sound  judg- 
ment— and  so  he  went  on;  and  the  longer  he 
went  on  the  more  I  was  puzzled,  and  my  belief 
is,  that  on  this  subject  the  Parson  got  much 
more  out  of  me  than  I  out  of  him,  on  that 
morning's  drive. 

"We  had  a  very  pleasant  day  on  the  hill,  but 
as  the  sports  were  all  the  same  as  those  of  the 
day  before  (with  the  exception  of  jumping  in 
sacks,  which  was  substituted  for  climbing  the 
pole,  and  was  very  good  fun),  I  shall  not  give 
any  further  account  of  them ;  especially  as  the 
gentlemen  who  are  going  to  publish  my  story 
11* 


250  THE   SCOURING   OF 

seem  to  think  already  that  I  am  rather  too  long- 
winded. 

We  got  down  home  in  capital  time  for  tea, 
and  Joe  followed  very  soon  afterwards,  in  the 
highest  spirits  ;  for,  as  he  said,  every  thing  had 
gone  off  so  well,  and  everybody  was  pleased 
and  satisfied;  so  we  were  all  very  merry,  and 
had  another  charming  evening.  I  couldn't  tell 
what  had  come  to  me  when  I  got  up  stairs 
alone  by  myself,  for  I  seemed  as  if  a  new  life 
were  growing  up  in  me,  and  I  were  getting  all 
of  a  sudden  into  a  much  bigger  world,  full  of  all 
sorts  of  work  and  pleasure,  which  I  had  never 
dreamt  of,  and  of  people  whom  I  could  get  to 
love  and  honour,  though  I  might  never  see  or 
speak  to  them. 

I  had  been  bred  up  from  a  child  never  to  look 
beyond  my  own  narrow  sphere.  To  get  on  in  it 
was  the  purpose  of  my  life,  and  I  had  drilled 
myself  into  despising  every  thing  which  did  not, 
as  I  thought,  help  towards  this  end.  Near  rela- 
tions I  had  none.  I  was  really  fond  of  my  two 
friends,  but  I  don't  think  I  should  ever  have  got 
to  be  friends  with  them  if  we  hadn't  been  in  the 
same  office ;  and  I  used  often  to  be  half  pro- 
voked with  them,  and  to  think  myself  a  very 


THE    WHITE    HORSE.  251 

wise  fellow,  because  out  of  office-hours  they 
would  read  poetry  and  novels  instead  of  fagging 
at  short-hand  or  accounts,  as  I  did,  and  spent  all 
their  salaries  instead  of  saving.  Except  those 
two,  I  knew  nobody ;  and  though  I  belonged  to 
a  debating  society,  it  wasn't  that  I  cared  for  the 
members,  or  what  they  talked  about,  but  that  I 
thought  it  might  be  useful  to  me  to  talk  fluently 
if  I  got  on  in  business.  Sometimes,  and  espe- 
cially in  my  yearly  holidays,  I  had  felt  as  if  I 
wanted  something  else,  and  that  my  way  of  life 
was  after  all  rather  a  one-eyed  sort  of  business ; 
but  I  set  all  such  misgivings  down  as  delusions, 
and  had  never  allowed  them  long  to  trouble  me. 
In  short  I  begin  to  suspect  that  I  must  have 
been  getting  to  be  a  very  narrow,  bigoted,  dis- 
agreeable sort  of  fellow,  and  it  was  high  time 
that  I  should  find  my  way  to  Elm  Close,  or 
some  such  place,  to  have  my  eyes  opened  a 
little,  and  discover  that  a  man  may  work  just  as 
steadily  and  honestly — aye,  much  more  stead- 
ily and  honestly — at  his  own  business,  without 
shutting  up  his  brains  and  his  heart  against 
every  thing  else  that  is  going  on  in  the  world 
around  him.  However,  I  can't  be  too  thankful 
that  my  teaching  came  to  me  in  the  way  it  did, 


252  THE    SCOURING  OF 

for  I  might  have  had  to  learn  my  lesson  in  a 
very  different  school  from  Elm  Close  Farm. 

There  certainly  never  was  such  a  pleasant 
school.  For  the  next  two  or  three  days  after 
'the  Scouring,'  Mr.  Warton  was  my  chief  com- 
panion. Joe  and  Miss  Lucy  both  had  their 
work  to  attend  to  after  breakfast,  and  so  the 
Parson  and  I  were  left  a  good  deal  together; 
and  we  used  to  start  off  to  see  some  of  the  old 
men  whom  he  had  promised  to  show  me,  who 
could  tell  me  about  the  old  pastimes.  I  never 
liked  any  thing  so  much  as  these  walks — not 
even  the  walks  I  afterwards  used  to  have  alone 
with  Miss  Lucy,  for  they  were  too  exciting, 
and  half  the  time  I  was  in  such  a  fret  that  I 
couldn't  thoroughly  enjoy  them.  But  there  was 
no  drawback  in  these  walks  with  the  Parson. 
He  was  full  of  fun,  and  of  all  sorts  of  knowl- 
edge ;  and  he  liked  talking,  and  I  think  rather 
took  a  fancy  to  me,  and  was  pleased  to  see  how 
I  worked  at  collecting  all  the  information  I 
could  about  the  White  Horse,  for  he  took  a 
great  deal  of  pains  to  help  me. 

One  morning  though  I  remember  he  got  me 
into  a  regular  puzzle  about  King  Alfred,  for  I 
had  been  reading  over  my  notes  of  the  old  gen- 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  253 

tleman's  story,  and  couldn't  make  it  agree  with 
the  tales  which  I  had  read  about  Alfred's  hiding 
away  in  the  cowherd's  hut,  and  burning  the 
cakes.  So  I  asked  Mr.  Warton  about  it. 

"  I  think,"  said  he,  "  you  will  find  that  Alfred 
was  in  the  cowherd's  cottage  in  the  year  878, 
after  the  battle  at  Chippenham." 

"  But,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  according  to  the  old  gen- 
tleman's story,  Ashdown  was  Alfred's  greatest 
victory;  and  Ashdown  was  fought  in  871. 
Now  it  seems  very  odd  that  he  should  have 
to  run  away  and  skulk  about  in  such  places 
after  that." 

"  "Well,"  said  he,  "  I'm  not  well  enough  up  in 
the  history  to  explain  it  to  you,  but  I'm  pretty 
sure  you'll  find  I'm  right  about  the  dates — why 
shouldn't  you  write  and  ask  the  old  gentleman?" 

So  I  did,  and  I  kept  a  copy  of  my  letter ;  but 
I  don't  think  I  need  print  that,  because  his 
answer  will  be  quite  enough  without  it.  Here 
it  is : — 

"  22d  September,  1857. 

"  My  Dear  Sir, — I  am  favoured  with  yours  of 
the  20th  ult.,  which  came  safely  to  hand  this 
morning.  Our  post  is  somewhat  behind  the 
times,  and  I  know  of  hardly  any  town  or  vil- 


254  THE    SCOURING    OF 

lage  from  which  a  letter  can  arrive  at  thia 
place  under  two  days.  I  do  not  myself  com- 
plain of  this  state  of  things. 

"  With  regard  to  the  subject  of  your  letter,  I 
have  to  tell  you  that  your  friend  the  clergyman 
is  right  in  his  dates.  It  was  in  the  year  878 
that  Alfred  was  deserted  by  his  nobles  and 
people  after  the  battle  of  Chippenham,  which 
was  a  drawn  battle.  Then  he  fled  to  the  Island 
of  Athelney,  in  Somersetshire,  and  the  incident 
to  which  you  allude  took  place,  but  you  have 
not  got  the  verses  correctly ;  they  run, — 

'  Casn't  mind  the  ke-aks  mun,  and  doosn't  zee  'em  burn? 
I'ze  warn  thee'lt  yeat  'em  vast  enough,  zo  zoon  az  'tiz  thy  turn.' 

But  you  are  not  to  believe  from  this,  that  the 
Danish  army  ever  got  a  hold  on  the  kingdom  of 
Wessex.  I  think  that  the  following  passage 
from  Asser's  'Life  of  Alfred'  will  explain  a 
good  deal  to  you.  Referring  to  his  sojourn  in 
Athelney,  Asser  says : — 

" '  We  may  believe  that  this  misfortune  was 
brought  upon  the  aforesaid  king,  because  in  the 
beginning  of  his  reign,  when  he  was  a  youth, 
and  influenced  by  youthful  feelings,  he  would 
not  listen  to  the  petitions  which  his  subjects 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  255 

made  to  him  for  help  in  their  necessities ;  but 
he  drove  them  from  him  and  paid  no  heed  to 
their  requests.  This  particular  gave  much  pain 
to  the  holy  man,  St.  Neot,  who  was  his  kins- 
man ;  and  often  foretold  to  him  in  the  spirit  of 
prophecy  that  he  would  suffer  great  adversity 
on  this  account;  but  Alfred  neither  attended 
to  the  reproof  of  the  man  of  God,  nor  listened 
to  his  true  prophecy — wherefore  seeing  that  a 
man's  sins  must  be  corrected  either  in  this 
world  or  the  next,  the  true  and  righteous  Judge 
willed  that  his  sin  should  not  go  unpunished 
in  this  world,  to  the  end  that  he  might  spare 
him  in  the  world  to  come.  From  this  cause, 
therefore,  Alfred  often  fell  into  such  great  mis- 
ery, that  sometimes  none  of  his  subjects  knew 
where  he  was,  or  what  had  become  of  him.' 

"  And  Alfred  learned  his  lesson  well  in  the 
next  few  years,  for  you  will  find  that  in  the  year 
886  A.D.,  '  which  was  the  thirty-eighth  year  since 
his  birth,  King  Alfred,  after  the  burning  of 
cities  and  slaying  of  the  people,  honourably 
rebuilt  the  city  of  London  and  made  it  again 
habitable,  and  gave  it  into  the  custody  of  his 
son-in-law,  ^Ithelred,  Earl  of  Mercia;  to  which 
King  Alfred,  all  the  Angles  and  Saxons,  who 


256  THE   SCOURING   OF 

before  had  been  dispersed  every  where,  or  were 
in  captivity  with  the  pagans,  voluntarily  turned 
and  submitted  themselves  to  his  rule  ! ' 

"  You  see  they  had  turned  from  his  rule  many 
of  them  because  it  was  an  unjust  one  in  those 
early  years  of  his  reign.  But  they  were  never 
subdued  by  the  Danes, — so  that  my  statement 
which  you  quote,  '  that  the  battle  of  Ashdown 
saved  England  from  one  hundred  years  of 
Paganism,'  is  not  shaken. 

"  I  have  directed  my  London  bookseller  to 
leave  a  copy  of  Asser's  '  Life  of  Alfred  the 
Great,'  for  you,  at  Somerset  House,  directed  to 
the  care  of  my  friend,  the  secretary  of  the  An- 
tiquaries' Society ;  you  will  find  it  to  be  well 
worth  a  careful  perusal.  I  shall  be  always  glad 
to  hear  from  you  upon  the  subjects  on  which 
we  have  conversed,  and  heartily  desiring  that 
the  veneration  for  all  that  is  old  may  grow  upon 
you,  and  that  God  may  have  you  in  his  good 
keeping,  I  am  faithfully  yours, 


But  to  return  to  my  subject,  from  which  I 
have  been  wandering  for  the  pleasure  of  putting 
in  the  old  gentleman's  letter.  The  Parson  in 
our  walks  set  me  thinking  about  fifty  subjects 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  257 

which  I  never  cared  about  before,  because  I 
could  see  that  he  was  himself  deeply  interested 
in  them,  and  really  believed  whatever  he  said  to 
me.  We  used  to  get  home  by  about  twelve 
o'clock,  and  then  I  would  go  away  by  myself, 
and  think  over  what  we  had  been  talking  about 
till  dinner.  And,  after  dinner,  Miss  Lucy,  and 
sometimes  Joe,  would  corne  out  and  walk  with 
us  till  tea.  Sometimes  we  went  to  the  village 
school,  and  I  sat  at  the  door  and  heard  them 
teaching ;  and  as  long  as  Mr.  Warton  was  with 
us  it  was  all  right,  but  afterwards,  when  he  had 
gone,  I  could  see  that  the  schoolmistress,  a 
young  woman  of  about  thirty,  sallow-faced 
and  rather  prudish,  used  to  look  at  me  as  if  I 
had  no  business  there. 

When  he  left,  Mr.  Warton  gave  me  a  kind 
invitation  to  go  and  see  him  in  town,  and  added 
he  had  no  doubt  I  should  come,  for  he  could  see 
I  should  soon  want  some  such  work  as  he  could 
give  me  to  do. 

After  he  was  gone  I  tumbled  fairly  head  over 
heels  into  the  net  in  which  I  suppose  every  man 
"  as  is  a  man  "  (as  old  Seeley  would  say)  gets 
enmeshed  once  in  his  life.  I  found  it  was  no 
use  to  struggle  any  longer,  and  gave  myself  up 


258  THE   SCOURING   OF 

to  the  stream,  with  all  sails  set.  Now  there  is 
no  easier  thing  than  going  down  stream  some- 
how, when  wind  and  tide  are  with  you ;  but  to 
steer  so  as  to  make  the  most  of  wind  and  tide, 
isn't  so  easy — at  least  I  didn't  find  it  so. 

For  as  often  as  not,  I  think,  I  did  the  wrong 
thing,  and  provoked,  instead  of  pleasing  her.  I 
used  to  get  up  every  morning  before  six,  to  be 
ready  to  wish  her  good  morning  as  she  went 
out  to  the  dairy;  but  I  don't  think  she  half 
liked  it,  for  she  was  generally  in  a  very  old 
gown  tucked  through  her  pocket  holes,  and  pat- 
tens. Then  after  breakfast  I  used  to  hanker 
round  the  kitchen,  or  still-room,  or  wherever  she 
might  happen  to  be,  like  a  Harry-long-legs 
round  a  candle.  And  again  in  the  afternoon 
I  never  could  keep  away,  but  was  at  her  side  in 
the  garden,  or  on  her  walks  ;  in  fact,  to  get  rid 
of  me,  she  had  fairly  to  go  up  to  her  room. 

But  I  couldn't  help  myself ;  I  felt  that,  come 
what  might,  I  must  be  near  her  while  I  could ; 
and  on  the  whole,  I  think  she  was  pleased,  and 
didn't  at  all  dislike  seeing  me  reduced  to  this 
pitiful  state. 

When  I  was  involuntarily  out  of  her  sight, 
I  used  to  have  a  sort  of  craving  for  poetry 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  259 

and  often  wished  that  I  had  spent  a  little  more 
time  over  such  matters.  I  got  Joe  to  lend  me 
the  key  of  the  cupboard  where  he  kept  his  li- 
brary, hoping  to  find  something  to  suit  me 
there.  But,  besides  a  few  old  folios  of  divinity 
and  travel,  and  some  cookery  books,  and  the 
Farmer's  Magazine,  there  was  nothing  but 
Watts's  Hymns  and  PoUock's  Course  of  Time, 
which  I  didn't  find  of  any  use  to  me. 

Joe  used  to  wonder  at  me  at  first,  when  I 
refused  his  offers  of  a  day's  coursing,  or  a  ride 
with  him  to  Farringdon  or  Didcott  markets  ; 
but  he  soon  got  used  to  it,  and  put  it  down 
to  my  cockney  bringing  up,  and  congratulated 
himself  that,  at  any  rate,  I  was  pretty  good 
company  over  a  pipe  in  the  kitchen. 

The  autumn  days  sped  away  all  too  quickly, 
but  I  made  the  most  of  them  as  they  passed,  and 
over  and  over  again  I  wondered  whether  there 
were  any  but  kind  and  hospitable  and  amusing 
people  in  the  Vale,  for  the  longer  I  stayed  there, 
the  more  I  was  astonished  at  the  kind  courtesy 
of  everybody  I  came  across,  from  the  highest  to 
the  lowest,  and  I  suppose  everybody  else  would 
find  it  the  same  as  I  did. 

It  seemed  as  if  I  were  destined  to  leave  Elm 


260  THE  SCOURING   OF 

Close  without  a  single  unkind  thought  of  any 
body  I  had  seen  while  there,  for  even  Jack 
made  his  peace  with  me.  Only  two  days  be- 
fore my  departure,  Miss  Lucy  gave  out  at 
breakfast  that  she  was  going  to  walk  over  to 
see  her  uncle,  and  wanted  to  know  if  her 
mother  or  Joe  had  any  message.  No,  they 
hadn't.  'But  of  course  I  managed  to  accom- 
pany her. 

When  we  came  to  her  uncle's  farm,  he  was 
out,  and  in  five  minutes  Miss  Lucy  was  away 
with  her  dear  friend  and  cousin,  one  of  the 
girls  I  had  seen  at  the  pastime,  and  I  was  left 
to  the  tender  mercies  of  Jack.  However,  Jack 
at  his  own  house,  with  no  women  by  to  en- 
courage him  to  make  a  fool  of  himself,  was  a 
very  decent  fellow.  He  walked  me  about  the 
homestead,  and  chatted  away  about  the  pas- 
time, and  the  accomplishments  of  his  terrier 
dog,  whom  he  had  got  from  the  kennel  of  the 
Berkshire  hounds,  and  whose  father  used  to 
run  with  them  regularly.  Then  he  began  to 
inquire  about  me  in  a  patronizing  way ;  how 
I  came  to  know  Joe,  what  I  was,  and  where 
I  lived.  And  when  he  had  satisfied  his  curi- 
osity about  me,  he  took  to  talking  about  his 


THE  WHITE    HORSE.  261 

cousins.  Joe,  I  soon  found  out,  was  his  hero ; 
and  he  looked  forward  to  the  time  when  he 
should  be  able  to  breed  a  good  horse,  like  Joe's 
chestnut,  and  to  go  about  to  all  the  markets 
and  carry  his  head  as  high  as  any  one,  as  Joe 
could,  as  the  height  of  human  happiness.  As 
to  cousin  Lu,  if  he  were  looking  out  for  any 
thing  of  the  sort,  there  was  no  girl  within 
twenty  miles  that  he  knew  of  to  whom  she 
couldn't  give  a  stone  over  any  country.  But 
she  wasn't  likely  to  marry  any  of  the  young 
men  about;  she  was  too  full  of  fun,  and  laughed 
at  them  too  much.  "  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  sur- 
prised now,  if  she  was  to  take  to  some  town 
chap  like  you,  after  all's  said  and  done,"  said 
Jack,  in  conclusion,  as  we  returned  to  the  house. 
My  last  day  at  Elm  Close  came  swiftly  and 
surely,  and  the  sun  rose,  and  went  pitilessly  up 
into  the  heavens,  and  sank  down  behind  White 
Horse  Hill,  and  the  clocks  went  on  striking  one 
after  another,  just  as  if  it  had  been  any  other 
day.  What  a  number  of  things  I  had  in  my 
head  that  morning  to  say  to  all  of  them,  and 
above  all  to  her ;  but  one  thing  or  another  in- 
terfered, and  I  had.  said  not  one  quarter  of 
them,  and  these  not  in  the  way  I  had  intended; 


262  THE   SCOURING   OF 

> 

before  it  was  dark,  and  tea  on  the  table.  But 
I  did  go  all  round  the  farm  and  the  village, 
and  took  a  last  look  at  every  field  and  nook 
and  corner  where  I  had  been  so  happy. 

The  old  lady  was  unusually  talkative  at  tea, 
and  for  some  time  afterwards.  The  fact  that 
I  was  not  going  to  leave  the  house  till  after 
midnight,  and  was  to  be  at  business,  in  Lon- 
don, at  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning,  now  that 
she  had  realized  it,  excited  her  very  much,  and 
waked  up  all  sorts  of  recollections  of  her  own 
travels;  particularly  how,  when  she  was  a  child, 
she  had  been  a  whole  day  getting  to  Reading 
by  the  stage,  and  how,  even  after  her  marriage, 
she  and  father  had  had  to  sleep  at  Windsor, 
on  the  occasion  of  their  one  visit  to  London. 
I  was  watching  Miss  Lucy  at  her  work  all  the 
time,  and  thought  she  seemed  a  little  absent 
and  sorrowful,  and  when  our  eyes  met  every 
now  and  then,  she  looked  away  directly.  We 
hardly  said  a  word,  and  left  Joe  to  keep  up  the 
talk  with  the  old  lady. 

Before  long  she  got  tired  and  went  off  to  bed, 
and  then,  I  thought,  if  something  would  only 
call  Joe  out — but  nothing  happened,  and  so  we 
sat  on  talking  commonplaces,  till  prayer  time  ; 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  263 

which,  however,  Joe  did  consent  to  put  off  this 
evening,  because  it  was  my  last,  till  past  ten 
o'clock.  The  three  servants  came  in,  and  knelt 
down  as  usual ;  and  I,  in  a  place  where  I  could 
see  her,  and  watch  every  turn  of  her  figure,  and 
hear  every  breath  she  drew.  I  own  I  didn't 
listen  to  a  word  that  Joe  read — I  couldn't — 
and  I  don't  believe  any  poor  fellow  in  my  state 
will  ever  be  hardly  judged,  whatever  square- 
toed  people  may  say,  for  not  forcing  himself 
to  attend  when  he  hasn't  the  power  to  do  it.  I 
only  know  that,  though  I  couldn't  listen  to  the 
prayers,  I  could  and  did  thank  God  for  having 
brought  me  down  there,  and  allowed  me  to 
see  her  and  know  her ;  and  prayed,  as  heartily 
as  was  in  me  to  pray,  that  I  might  never  do 
any  thing  which  might  make  me  unworthy  of 
one  so  bright,  and  pure,  and  good  as  she. 

And  too  soon  Joe  shut  the  book,  and  got  up, 
and  the  servants  went  out,  and  Joe  dived  off 
into  the  recess ;  and  she  lighted  her  candle  and 
came  up  to  me,  holding  out  her  hand,  but 
without  saying  any  thing,  or  looking  up  in  my 
face. 

I  took  the  hand  which  she  held  out  to  me 
in  both  mine,  but  somehow,  when  I  thought  it 


264  THE  SCOUKING  OF 

might  be  for  the  last  time,  I  couldn't  let  it- 
go.  So  I  stood  holding  it,  my  heart  beat- 
ing so  that  I  couldn't  speak,  and  feeling  very 
uncomfortable  about  the  throat.  She  didn't 
take  it  away,  and  presently  I  got  my  voice 
again. 

"  Good  bye,  Miss  Lucy,"  said  I,  "  and  God 
bless  you.  I  can't  tell  you  what  my  holiday  at 
Elm  Close  has  been  to  me — and  I  can't  find 
words  to  thank  you.  I'm  a  poor  lonely  fellow, 
with  nobody  belonging  to  me,  and  leading  a 
slave  of  a  life  in  the  midst  of  the  great  crowd, 
with  all  sorts  of  temptations  to  go  wrong.  You'll 
let  me  think  of  you,  and  Elm  Close,  and  it  will 
be  like  a  little  bright  window  with  the  sun 
shining  through  into  our  musty  clerks'  room.  I 
feel  it  will  help  to  keep  me  straight  for  many 
a  long  day.  You'll  let  me  think  of  you  now, 
won't  you  ? "  said  I,  pressing  the  little  hand 
which  I  held  in  mine. 

"  Why,  you  see  I  can't  help  it  if  I  would," 
said  she,  looking  up  with  a  merry  light  in  her 
eyes ;  but  she  went  on  directly,  "  but,  indeed, 
I'm  sure  we  shall  think  of  you  quite  as  often 
as  you  will  of  us.  Joe  used  to  talk  so  often 
about  you  that  I  felt  quite  like  an  old  friend 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  265 

before  we  met,  and  now  you've  been  here  we 
shall  feel  so  dull  without  you." 

"  Now,  you  two !  don't  stand  talking  there 
all  night,"  said  Joe,  coming  out  of  the  recess, 
where  he  had  been  rummaging  out  the  pipes 
and  a  black  bottle  ;  "  come,  come,  kiss  and  part." 

I  felt  the  blood  rush  up  to  my  face,  when  Joe 
said  that,  but  I  opened  my  hands  with  a  jerk, 
and  let  hers  go,  I  hardly  knew  why.  If  I 
hadn't  been  so  fond  that  I  was  afraid  of  her, 
I  should  have  taken  Joe  at  his  word.  But  I'm 
glad  I  didn't;  I'm  sure  I  was  right,  for  I  stole 
a  look  at  her,  and  saw  that  she  looked  vexed, 
and  flushed  up  to  her  bright  brown  hair.  Next 
moment  she  held  out  her  hand  again,  and  shook 
mine  heartily,  and  said,  without  looking  up, 
"  Good-bye,  you  must  come  again  soon,"  and 
then  hurried  out  of  the  room,  and  took  away 
all  the  light  with  her.  Heigh-ho  !  when  shall  I 
see  the  light  again. 

Well,  as  I  followed  Joe  into  the  kitchen,  what 
between  the  sinking  I  felt  at  having  to  leave, 
and  the  doubt  whether  I  hadn't  made  a  fool  of 
myself  at  the  last  with  Miss  Lucy,  I  felt  half 
mad,  and  the  first  thing  I  made  up  rny  mind  to 
was  to  have  a  good  quarrel  with  Joe. 

12 


266  THE   SCOURING   OF 

So  when  he  sat  down  on  one  side  of  the  fire, 
and  began  lighting  his  pipe,  I  kept  standing 
looking  at  him,  and  thinking  how  I  should  begin. 

"  There's  your  pipe,  Dick,"  said  he,  pulling 
away,  "  on  the  settle — why  don't  you  sit  down 
and  light  up  ?  " 

"  I  shan't  smoke  with  you  to-night,  Joe,"  said 
I,  "you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  !  " 

"Ashamed  o'  myself,"  shouted  Joe,  staring  up 
at  me  till  I  could  hardly  keep  from  laughing, 
angry  as  I  was;  "what,  in  the  name  o'  good- 
ness, have  I  done  to  be  ashamed  of  ?  " 

"'Tisn't  what  you've  done,  but  what  you've 
said." 

"  Said !  what  in  the  world  have  I  said  ?  Pre- 
cious little  I  know,  for  you  always  get  all  the 
talk  to  yourself." 

"  Why,  what  you  said  just  now  to  me  and 
Miss  Lucy,"  said  I. 

"  To  you  and  Lu?  "  said  he,  looking  puzzled  ; 
and  then  off  he  went  into  one  of  his  great 
laughs.  "  Oh,  I  take — well,  that's  too  much ! 
To  be  blown  up  by  you  for  it!  Why,  if  any 
one  is  to  scold,  I  should  say  it's  Lu." 

"  Do  you  think  I  like  to  be  made  the  means 
of  giving  your  sister  pain  ?  "  said  I. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  2G7 

"  There  now,  don't  be  a  fool,  Dick — sit  down 
like  a  good  fellow,  and  light  your  pipe.  What 
I  said  don't  mean  any  thing  down  in  these 
parts.  Well,  I'm  very  sorry.  She'll  never  think 
twice  about  it,  bless  you.  And  besides,  you 
know,  there  can't  be  any  harm  done,  for  you 
didn't  take  my  advice." 

Well,  I  began  to  get  cool,  and  to  think  I 
might  do  something  better  than  quarrel  with 
Joe  the  last  night ;  so  I  took  my  pipe,  and  filled 
it,  and  sat  down  opposite  him,  and  he  began  to 
mix  two  glasses  of  grog,  twisting  his  face  about 
all  the  time  to  keep  himself  from  laughing. 

"  Here's  your  health,  old  fellow,"  said  he, 
when  he  had  done,  "  and,  mind  you,  we  shall 
always  be  glad  to  see  you  here  when  you  can 
come ;  though  I'm  afraid  the  place  must  be  ter- 
rible dull  for  a  Londoner." 

"  It's  the  best  place  I've  ever  been  in,"  said  I, 
with  a  sigh. 

This  pleased  Joe;  and  he  went  off  about 
what  he  would  find  me  to  do  if  I  could  come 
down  in  the  winter  or  the  spring ;  but  I  didn't 
listen  much,  for  I  was  making  up  my  mind  to 
speak  to  him  about  his  sister,  and  I  was  afraid 
how  he  might  take  it 


268  THE  'SCOURING   OF 

Presently  he  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  I 
thought,  '  now  or  never,'  and  began. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you,  Joe,  is  your  sister  en- 
gaged to  any  one  ?  " 

"  Not  she,"  said  Joe,  looking  up  rather  sur- 
prised ;  "  why,  she's  only  eighteen  come  Lady- 
day!" 

"What  do  you  think  of  Mr.  Warton?" 
said  I. 

"  Our  Parson  !  "  laughed  Joe  ;  "  that  is  a  good 
'un.  Why  he  has  got  a  sweetheart  of  his  own. 
Let  alone  that  he'd  know  better  than  to  court 
a  farmer's  daughter." 

"Are  you  sure  ?  "  said  I ;  "  your  sister  isn't 
like  most  girls,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Yes,  I  tell  you,"  said  Joe,  "  he's  no  more  in 
love  with  .our  Lu  than  you  are." 

"  Then  I'm  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with 
her,  and  that's  all  about  it,"  said  I,  and  I  looked 
straight  across  at  him,  though  it  wasn't  an  easy 
thing  to  do.  But  I  felt  I  was  in  for  it,  and  I 
should  be  much  better  for  having  it  over. 

Joe  gave  a  start,  and  a  long  whistle;  and 
then  a  puff  or  two  at  his  pipe,  staring  at  me 
right  in  the  eyes  till  I  felt  my  head  swimming. 
But  I  wasn't  going  to  look  down  just  then  ;  if 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  269 

he  had  looked  me  right  through  he  couldn't  have 
found  any  thing  I  was  ashamed  of,  so  far  as 
his  sister  was  concerned,  and  I  felt  he  had  a 
right  to  look  as  hard  as  he  pleased,  and  that  I 
was  bound  not  to  shirk  it. 

Presently  he  got  up,  and  took  a  turn  or  two 
up  and  down  the  kitchen.  Then  he  stopped — 

"  Spoke  to  her,  yet  ?  "  said  he. 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  I  haven't." 

"  Come,  give  us  your  hand,  Dick,"  said  he, 
holding  out  his,  and  looking  quite  bright  again ; 
"  I  knew  you  would  be  all  on  the  square,  let  be 
what  might." 

".Well,  I  won't  deceive  you,  Joe,"  said  I,  "  I 
don't  deserve  any  credit  for  that." 

"How  not?"  said  he. 

"  Why,  I  meant  to  have  spoken  to  her  half-a- 
dozen  times,  only  one  little  thing  or  another 
stopped  it.  But  I'm  very  glad  of  it,  for  I  think 
you  ought  to  know  it  first." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  he,  coming  and  sitting 
down  again,  and  staring  into  the  fire,  "  it's  a 
precious  bad  job.  Let's  think  a  bit  how  we  be 
to  tackle  it." 

"  I  know,"  said  I,  drawing  up  a  bit — for  I 
didn't  feel  flattered  at  this  speech — "that  I'm 


270  THE  SCOURING   OF 

not  in  the  same  position  you  are  in,  and  that 
you've  a  right  to  look  for  a  much  richer  man 
than  I  am  for  your  sister,  but — " 

"  Oh,  bother  that,"  said  Joe,  beginning  to 
smoke  again,  and  still  staring  into  the  fire ;  "  I 
wasn't  thinking  of  that.  'Twill  be  just  as  bad 
for  we,  let  who  will  take  her.  Here's  mother 
getting  a'most  blind,  and  'mazing  forgetful- 
like  about  every  thing.  Who's  to  read  her  her 
chapter,  or  to  find  her  spectacles  ?  and  what  in 
the  world's  to  become  of  the  keys  ?  I  be  no 
use  to  mother  by  myself,  you  see,"  said  Joe, 
"  and  I  couldn't  abide  to  see  the  old  lady  put 
about  at  her  time  of  life ;  let  alone  how  the 
pickling  and  preserving  is  to  go  on." 

I  was  very  pleased  and  surprised  to  see  him 
taking  it  so  coolly,  and  particularly  that  he 
seemed  not  to  be  objecting  to  me,  but  only  to 
losing  his  sister  at  all. 

"  Then  there's  my  dairy,"  said  he ;  "  that 
cow  Daisy,  as  gives  the  richest  milk  in  all  the 
Vale,  nobody  could  ever  get  her  to  stand  quiet 
till  Lu  took  to  her ;  she'll  kick  down  a  matter 
o'  six  pail  o'  milk  a  week,  I'll  warrant.  And  the 
poultry,  too;  there's  that  drattl'd  old  galleeny 
'11  be  learning  the  Spanish  hens  to  lay  astray  up 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  271 

in  the  brake,  as  soon  as  ever  Lu  goes,  and  then 
the  fox  '11  have  'em  all.  To  think  of  the  trouble 
I  took  to  get  that  breed,  and  not  a  mossel  'o  use 
at  last !  " 

"  Well,  but  Joe,"  said  I,  "  one  would  think  we 
were  going  to  be  married  to-morrow,  to  hear 
you  talk." 

"  Well,  you  want  to  be  married,  don't  you  ?  " 
said  he,  looking  up. 

"  Yes,  but  not  directly,"  said  1^  "  you  see,  I 
should  like  to  have  a  tidy  place  got  all  ready 
before  I  should  think — " 

"  Why,  she  mayn't  be  agreeable  after  all," 
interrupted  Joe,  as  if  a  new  light  had  suddenly 
struck  him  ;  and  then  he  had  a  good  laugh  at 
the  thought,  in  which  I  didn't  join. 

"  Then,  Joe,"  said  I,  "  I  think  you  don't  seem 
to  mind  my  being  a  cockney,  and  not  a  rich 
man  ?  " 

"  I'd  sooner  have  had  a  chap  that  knows  a 
horse  from  a  handspike,  and  something  about 
four-course,"  said  he,  "  so  I  won't  tell  a  lie 
about  it,  Dick.  Put  that  out  of  the  way,  and 
I'd  as  lief  call  you  brother-in-law  -as  any  man. 
But  you  ain't  in  any  hurry  you  said  just 
now  ?  " 


272  THE   SCOURING    OF 

"  Well,  no,"  said  I ;  "  but  of  course  I  should 
like  to  write  to  your  sister  directly  and  tell  her, 
and  I  hope  you  won't  object  to  that,  and  won't 
hinder  me  if  you  can't  help  me." 

"  Don't  have  any  of  that  writing,"  said  Joe, 
"  'pend  upon  it,  a  good-bred  girl  like  Lu 
wouldn't  stand  it." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  said  I,  « but  I'm 
going  away  to-night,  you  know,  and  if  I  don't 
write  how's  she  ever  to  know  any  thing  about 
it?" 

"  Look  here,"  said  Joe  ;  "  will  you  promise, 
Dick,  to  give  me  and  mother  a  year  to  turn 
round  in  from  next  Christmas — that  is,  suppos- 
ing Lu  don't  say  no  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  said  I,  ;t  Christmas  year  is 
the  earliest  time  I  could  hope  to  be  ready  by." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  he  ;  «  Don't 
you  go  writing  to  her  at  all,  and  I'll  bring  her 
up  with  me  for  Christmas  cattle-show,  and  you 
can  get  us  lodgings,  and  show  us  some  of  the 
sights.  You  can  have  it  all  out  with  her  before 
we  come  home,  and  I  shall  be  by  to  see  all 
fair." 

"  No,  no,  Joe,  I  couldn't  say  a  word  with  you 
by," 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  273 

"  I  didn't  mean  that  I  was  to  be  in  the  room, 
you  know,  only  if  any  thing  goes  wrong — you 
understand,"  said  Joe,  looking  round,  and  nod- 
ding at  me  with  a  solemn  face. 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  I ;  "  but  somebody  else — 
one  of  the  young  farmers  now,  that  I  saw  on 
the  hill,  may  be  stepping  in  before  Christmas." 

"  Not  they.  It's  busy  times  with  us  these 
next  twTo  months.  Besides,  I'll  look  after  that. 
Is  it  a  bargain,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  only  mind,  Joe,  that  you 
look  sharp  meantime." 

"  All  right,"  said  he  ;  and  then  fell  to  looking 
into  the  fire  again  ;  and  I  sat  thinking  too,  and 
wondering  at  my  luck,  which  I  could  hardly 
believe  in  yet. 

"  And  now  about  the  pot,"  said  Joe ;  "  sup- 
pose Lu  says  yes,  what  have  you  got  to  keep 
the  pot  boiling?" 

Then  I  told  him  what  my  salary  was,  and 
what  I  had  saved,  and  where  I  had  put  it  out, 
and  he  nodded  away,  and  seemed  very  well 
satisfied. 

«  Well,  Lu  has  got  .£500,"  said  he,  «  under 
father's  will.  Parson  and  I  are  the  executors. 

You  must  go  and  see  the  Parson  when  you  get 
12* 


274  THE   SCOURING   OF 

back  to  London ;  he's  an  out-and-outer,  and 
worth  more  than  all  the  chaps  at  that  jawing 
shop  of  yours  put  together.  The  money  is  out 
at  interest,  all  but  ,£200,  which  we've  never 
raised  yet,  but  for  that  matter  I  can  pay  it  up 
whenever  it's  wanted." 

"  Of  course,"  said  I,  "  I  should  wish  all  her 
fortune  to  be  settled  on  her." 

"  Yes,  I  forgot,"  said  he ;  "I  suppose  there 
ought  to  be  some  sort  of  tying-up  done  for  the 
children.  So  I'll  go  and  see  Lawyer  Smith 
about  it  next  market-day." 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  wait  till  after  Christ- 
mas," said  I. 

"  Aye,  aye,"  said  he,  "  I  forgot.  We  may  be 
running  a  tail  scent  after  all.  But,  I  say,  Dick, 
if  you  get  married,  Lu  can  never  live  in  those 
dirty,  dark  streets,  and  you  away  all  day ;  she'd 
mope  to  death  without  a  place  for  poultry,  and 
a  little  bit  of  turf  to  cool  her  feet  on." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  you  see  I've  got  a  bit  of 
ground  under  a  freehold  land  society,  down  the 
Great  Northern  line.  It's  a  very  pretty  place, 
and  only  five  minutes'  walk  from  a  station.  I 
could  build  a  house  there  in  the  spring,  you 
know,  and  have  the  garden  made." 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  275 

"  That'll  do,"  said  he ;  "  and  if  you  want 
£100  or  so,  to  finish  it  off  as  should  be,  why 
you  know  where  to  come  for  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I,  "  but  I  think  I  can 
manage  it." 

"  I  shall  send  her  up  those  Spanish  hens," 
said  he,  looking  up  again  presently  from  his 
pipe ;  "  they  won't  be  no  use  here." 

"  I  wish,  Joe,"  said  I,  "  you  wouldn't  talk  as 
if  it  was  all  quite  certain  ;  it  makes  me  feel  un- 
comfortable. Your  sister  mayn't  like  me,  after 
all." 

"  Makes  no  odds  at  all,"  said  he  ;  "  if  she 
don't  have  you,  there'll  be  some  other  chap  on 
in  no  time.  Once  a  young  gal  gets  a  follower 
it's  all  over,  so  fur  as  I  see;  though  'tisn't 
always  the  first  as  they  takes  up  with  as  they 
sticks  to  for  better  for  worse." 

"  Thank  you  for  nothing,  Master  Joe,"  said  I 
to  myself;  and  I  smoked  away  opposite  him  for 
some  time  without  saying  a  word,  thinking 
what  a  queer  fellow  he  was,  and  how  I  had 
better  let  things  rest  as  they  were,  for  I  couldn't 
see  how  to  handle  him  the  least  bit  in  the 
world ;  and  I  can't  tell  whether  I  was  most 
glad  or  sorry,  when  we  heard  the  fogger  come 


276  THE  SCOURING  OF 

to  the  kitchen  door  to  say  the  trap  was  all 
ready. 

Joe  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  last  pipe, 
took  off  the  last  drop  out  of  his  tumbler,  and 
then  put  out  his  hand  and  gave  me  one  of  his 
grips. 

"  It's  got  to  be  done,"  said  he,  "  there's  no 
mistake  about  that." 

« What  ? "  said  I,  "  what's  to  be  done  ? 
Don't  look  so  solemn,  Joe,'  for  goodness'  sake." 

"  It's  no  laughing  matter,  mind  you,"  said 
he  ;  and  he  took  the  candle  and  went  off"  into 
the  passage,  and  came  back  with  his  whip  and 
two  top-coats.  "  Here,  you  get  into  that,"  he 
went  on,  handing  me  one  of  them  ;  "  you'll  find 
the  night  rawish." 

I  buttoned  myself  into  the  coat,  which  was  a 
white  drab  one,  about  as  thick  as  a  deal  board, 
with  double  seams  and  mother-of-pearl  buttons 
as  big  as  cheese-plates,  and  followed  Joe  into 
the  yard  with  a  heavy  heart. 

"  Carpet-bag  and  hamper  in  ?  "  said  he,  taking 
the  reins. 

"  Ees,  Sir,  all  right." 

"  Jump  up,  Dick." 

I  shook  hands  with  the  honest  fogger,  and 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  277 

gave  him  half-a-crown,  which  he  didn't  seem  to 
know  how  to  take  ;  and  then  I  got  up  by  Joe's 
side,  and  we  walked  out  of  the  yard  at  a  foot's 
pace,  on  to  the  grass ;  he  kept  off  the  road  to  be 
more  quiet.  It  was  bright  moonlight,  and  a 
streak  of  white  mist  lay  along  the  Close.  I 
could  hear  nothing  but  the  soft  crush  of  the 
wheels  on  the  rich  sward,  and  the  breathing  of 
the  great  cows  as  we  passed  them  in  the  mist. 
But  my  heart  was  beating  like  a  hammer,  as  I 
looked  back  over  my  shoulder  at  one  window 
of  the  old  house,  until  it  was  hidden  behind  the 
elm-trees ;  and  when  I  jumped  down  to  open 
the  gate  into  the  road,  I  tore  open  the  great 
coat,  or  I  think  I  should  have  been  suffocated. 

"  It's  no  laughing  matter,  mind  you,"  said 
Joe,  looking  round,  after  we  had  gone  about 
half-a-mile  along  the  road  at  a  steady  trot. 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  I.  I  felt  much  more  like 
crying,  and  I  thought  he  was  trying  to  comfort 
me,  in  his  way. 

"  Come,  you  button  up  that  coat  again,  Dick ; 
I  won't  have  you  getting  into  the  train  at  one 
in  the  morning  with  a  chill  on  you.  I  won't 
turn  my  back,"  he  went  on,  "  on  any  man  in  the 
county  at  sampling  wheat,  or  buying  a  horse,  or 


278  THE  SCOURING   OF 

a  lot  of  heifers,  or  a  flock  of  sheep.  Besides, 
if  a  chap  does  get  the  blind  side  of  me,  it's 
may-be  a  ten-pound  note  lost,  and  there's  an 
end  of  it.  But  when  you  come  to  choosing  a 
missus,  why,  it  seems  like  jumping  in  the  dark, 
for  all  as  I  can  see.  There's  nothing  to  sample 
'em  by,  and  you  can't  look  in  their  mouths  or 
feel  'em  over.  I  don't  take  it  as  a  man's  judg- 
ment of  any  account  when  he  comes  to  that 
deal — and  then,  if  he  does  get  the  wrong  sort !  " 

"  Thank  you,  Joe,"  said  I,  "  but  I'm  not  a  bit 
afraid  about  getting  the  wrong  sort,  if  all  goes 
well." 

"  No,  but  I  be,"  said  he ;  "  why,  one  would 
think,  Dick,  that  nobody  had  to  get  a  missus 
but  you." 

Well,  that  made  me  laugh  out,  I  was  so  tickled 
to  find  he  was  thinking  of  himself  all  the  time ; 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  drive  we  were  merry 
enough,  for  he  went  on  talking  about  his  own 
prospects  so  funnily  that  it  was  impossible  to 
keep  sad  or  sentimental. 

We  drew  up  at  the  silent  station  five  or  six 
minutes  nearly  before  the  train  was  due,  and 
were  received  by  the  one  solitary  porter. 

"  What  luggage,  Sir  ? "  said  he  to  me,  as  I 
got  down. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  279 

"  One  carpet-bag,"  I  answered,  "  for  Padding- 
ton." 

"  And  a  hamper,"  said  Joe  ;  "  you'll  find  a 
hamper  in  behind  there.  And  take  care  to 
keep  it  right  side  up,  porter,  for  there  are  some 
pots  of  jam  in  it." 

"  Who  is  it  for  ?  "  said  I ;  "  can  I  look  after 
it,  and  take  it  any  where  for  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  for  you,  of  course,"  said  Joe ;  "  you 
don't  suppose  the  women  would  have  let  you 
go  back  without  some  of  their  kickshaws ;  and 
I've  had  a  hare  and  a  couple  of  chickens  put 
in,  and  some  bacon.  You  must  eat  the  hare 
this  week,  mind." 

I  was  quite  taken  by  surprise  at  this  fresh 
instance  of  the  thoughtful  kindness  of  my  Vale 
friends,  and  wrung  Joe's  hand,  mumbling  out 
something  which  I  meant  for  thanks. 

"  Well,  good-bye,  old  fellow,"  he  said,  "  I'm 
very  glad  to  think  you've  found  your  way  down 
at  last,  and  now,  don't  forget  it ; "  and  he  gave 
me  a  grip  which  nearly  crushed  all  my  knuckles 
into  a  jelly,  and  was  gathering  up  his  reins  to 
drive  off. 

"  But  Joe,  here's  your  coat,"  I  called  out,  and 
was  beginning  to  take  it  off — "  you've  forgotten 
your  coat." 


280  THE   SCOURING   OF 

"  No,  no,"  said  he,  "  keep  it  on — 't  will  be 
very  cold  to-night,  and  you'll  want  it  in  the 
train.  We'll  fetch  it  at  Christmas,  and  the 
hamper  and  the  jam  pots  too,  at  the  same  time. 
Lu  will  be  sure  to  look  after  them,  so  mind  you 
don't  lose  'em — Hullo !  What  in  the  world  are 
you  cutting  off  the  direction  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing,"  said  I,  "  but  I  often  fancy 
parcels  go  safer  with  only  the  railway  label  on 
them.  Besides,  I  shall  have  it  in  the  carriage 
with  me." 

The  fact  was  I  had  caught  sight  of  the  direc- 
tion, which  was  in  her  handwriting,  and  had 
quite  forgotten  Joe,  as  I  was  cutting  it  off  to 
put  it  in  my  pocket-book. 

"  Well,  that's  a  rum  start,"  said  Joe,  "  but 
every  one  has  their  own  notions  about  travel- 
ling;" and  so,  with  a  cheery  good-bye  to  me, 
off  he  drove  along  the  dark  road ;  and  in  an- 
other minute  the  train  came  up,  and  I  and  my 
luggage  were  on  our  way  to  London. 

We  went  away  up  through  the  cold  night, 
eastward,  towards  the  great  city  which  had  been 
my  home  from  childhood.  I  felt  that  another 
man  was  journeying  back  from  the  one  who 
had  come  down  a  fortnight  before ;  that  he  who 


THE   WHITE    HORSE.  281 

was  travelling  eastward  had  learnt  to  look  be- 
yond his  own  narrow  cellar  in  the  great  world- 
city,  to  believe  in  other  things  than  cash  pay- 
ments and  shorthand  for  making  his  cellar 
liveable  in,  to  have  glimpses  of  and  to  sympa- 
thize with  the  life  of  other  men,  in  his  own 
time,  and  in  the  old  times  before  him.  These 
thoughts  crowded  on  me,  but  all  under  the 
shadow  of  and  subordinated  to  the  one  great 
rising  hope,  in  which  I  had  first  found  and  felt 
my  new  life.  Together  they  lifted  up  my  heart 
during  the  first  stages  of  that  night  journey, 
and  I  opened  the  window  and  leant  out  into 
the  rushing  night  air,  for  the  carriage  was  too 
small  for  me,  and  my  grand  visions  and  resolves. 
But  soon  it  began  to  feel  cold,  and  I  shut  up 
the  window  and  squeezed  myself  into  a  corner 
with  my  feet  up  on  the  opposite  seat,  and  felt 
very  thankful  that  I  had  on  Joe's  great  coat. 
Then  the  lamp  went  out,  and  it  got  colder  as 
the  dawn  came  on,  and  my  visions  and  resolves 
began  to  get  less  bright  and  firm.  The  other 
side  of  the  picture  rose  up  in  ugly  colours,  and 
I  thought  of  the  dirty  dark  clerks'  room,  and 
the  hours  of  oil-lamps  and  bad  air,  and  the 
heartless  whirl  and  din  of  the  great  city.  And 


282  THE   SCOUKING  OF 

to  crown  all  came  the  more  than  doubt  whether 
my  hope  would  not  fade  out  and  die  in  the 
recesses  of  my  own  heart.  What  was  I  ?  and 
what  my  prospects,  that  any  one  should  ever 
give  me  a  thought  again  of  those  whom  I  was 
so  fast  leaving  behind,  much  more  that  she,  the 
flower  of  them  all,  should  single  me  out  before 
all  others  ?  It  was  absurd,  I  should  most  likely 
never  see  Elm  Close,  or  the  Vale,.pr  the  great 
mysterious  Hill  again — I  had  better  make  up 
my  mind  to  live  the  next  twenty  years  as  I  had 
the  last.  With  some  such  meaning  spoke  the 
doleful  voices,  but  I  was  never  much  of  a  hand  at 
looking  at  the  doleful  side  of  things,  and  I  made 
good  strong  fight  on  that  night  ride ;  and  took 
out  my  pipe,  and  lit  it,  and  pressed  my  back 
firmer  into  my  corner. 

Well,  and  if  they  don't  remember  me,  thought 
I,  I  can  remember  them  at  any  rate — they  can't 
help  that ;  and  I  will  remember  them  too,  and 
all  their  kind  pleasant  ways,  and  their  manlike 
games,  and  their  queer  songs  and  stories — and 
the  queen  of  them  all,  I  can  carry  her  in  my 
heart,  thank  God  for  that,  and  every  word  I 
ever  heard  her  speak,  and  every  smile  I  ever 
saw  light  up  her  merry  eyes  or  dimple  round 


THE   WHITE   HOKSE.  283 

her  mouth — and  the  country,  too,  the  fair  rich 
Vale,  and  the  glorious  old  Hill,  they  are  mine 
for  ever,  and  all  the  memories  of  the  slaying 
of  dragonsj  and  of  great  battles  with  the  Pagan. 
I  wonder  whether  I  shall  ever  see  the  old  gen- 
tleman again  who  conjured  it  up  for  me,  and 
put  life  into  it,  and  made  me  -feel  as  if  King 
Alfred  and  his  Saxons  were  as  near  and  dear 
to  me  as  Sir  Colin  Campbell  and  the  brave 
lads  in  India ! 

Just  then  the  train  stopped  at  Reading,  and 
the  guard  put  his  head  in  to  say  we  stopped 
for  three  minutes,  and  I  could  get  a  glass  of 
ale. 

So  I  jumped  out  and  had  a  glass  of  ale,  and 
then  another;  and  stamped  about  the  platform 
till  the  train  started.  And  when  I  got  into  my 
corner  again,  I  was  quite  warm  and  jolly. 

I  have  been  always  used  to  a  good  night's 
rest,  and  I  daresay  the  ale  made  me  more 
sleepy,  and  so  I  fell  into  a  l^ind  of  doze  almost 
directly.  But  in  my  doze  the  same  train  of 
thought  went  on,  and  all  the  people  I  had  been 
living  with  and  hearing  of  flitted  about  in  the 
oddest  jumbles,  with  Elm  Close  -and  White 
Horse  Hill  for  a  background.  I  went  through 


284  THE   SCOURING   OF 

the  strangest  scenes.  One  minute  I  was  first 
cousin  to  King  Alfred,  and  trying  to  carry  his 
messages  over  the  Hill  to  j33thelred,  only  Joe's 
old  brown  horse  would  run  away  with  me 
along  the  Ridgeway ;  then  I  was  the  leader  of 
the  Berkshire  old  gamesters,  playing  out  the 
last  tie  with  a«  highwayman,  for  a  gold-laced 
hat  and  pah-  of  buckskin  breeches ;  then  I  was 
married — I  needn't  say  to  whom — and  we  were 
keeping  house  under  the  Hill,  and  waiting  tea 
for  St.  George,  when  he  should  come  down 
from  killing  the  Dragon.  And  so  it  went  on, 
till  at  last  a  mist,  came  over  the  Hill,  and  all 
the  figures  got  fainter  and  fainter,  and  seemed 
to  be  fading  away.  But  as  they  faded,  I  could 
see  one  great  figure  coming  out  clearer  through 
the  mist,  which  I  had  never  noticed  before. 
It  was  like  a  grand  old  man,  with  white  hair 
and  mighty  limbs;  who  looked  as  old  as  the 
hill  itself,  but  yet  as  if  he  were  as  young  now 
as  he  ever  had  been, — and  at  his  feet  were  a 
pickaxe  and  spade,  and  at  his  side  a  scythe. 
But  great  and  solemn  as  it  looked,  I  felt  that 
the  figure  was  not  a  man,  and  I  was  angry 
with  it, — why  should  it  come  in  with  its  great 
pitiful  eyes  and  smile?  why  were  my  brothers 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  285 

and  sisters,  the  men  and  women,  to  fade  away 
before  it  ? 

"  The  labour  that  a  man  doeth  under  the 
sun,  it  is  all  vanity.  Prince  and  peasant,  the 
wise  man  and  the  fool,  they  all  come  to  me 
at  last,  and  I  garner  them  away,  and  their 
place  knows  them  no  more !  " — so  the  figure 
seemed  to  say  to  itself,  and  I  felt  melancholy 
as  I  watched  it  sitting  there  at  rest,  playing 
with  the  fading  figures. 

At  last  it  placed  one  of  the  little  figures  on 
its  knee,  half  in  mockery,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
and  half  in  sorrow.  But  then  all  changed ; 
and  the  great  figure  began  to  fade,  and  the 
small  man  came  out  clearer  and  clearer.  And 
he  took  no  heed  of  his  great  neighbour,  but 
rested  there  where  he  was  placed ;  and  his  face 
was  quiet,  and  full  of  life,  as  he  gazed  steadily 
and  earnestly  through  the  mist.  And  the  other 
figures  came  flitting  by  again,  and  chanted  as 
they  passed,  "  The  work  of  one  true  man  is 
greater  than  all  thy  work.  Thou  hast  nought 
but  a  seeming  power,  over  it,  or  over  him. 
Every  true  man  is  greater  than  thee.  Every 
true  man  shall  conquer  more  than  thee ;  for  he 
shall  triumph  over  death,  and  hell,  and  thee, 
oh,  Time ! » 


286 


THE   SCOURING   OF 


And  then  I  woke  up,  for  the  train  stopped 
at  the  place  where  the  tickets  are  collected ; 
and,  in  another  five  minutes,  I  was  in  a  cab, 
with  my  bag  and  the  great  basket  of  country 
treasures,  creeping  along  in  the  early  Novem- 
ber morning  towards  Gray's  Inn  Lane.  And 
so  ended  my  fortnight's  holiday. 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  287 


WHICH  THE  PARSON  SENT  TO  MR.  JOSEPH  HURST, 
OF  ELM  CLOSE  FARM,  IN  FULFILMENT  OF  HIS 
PROMISE. 

LEVITICUS  xxiii.  v.  1,  2. — And  the  Lord  spake  unto  Moses,  saying, 
Speak  unto  the  children  of  Israel,  and  say  unto  them,  Concerning 
the  feasts  of  the  Lord  which  ye  shall  proclaim  to  be  holy  convo- 
cations, even  these  are  my  feasts. 

"  THESE  are  my  feasts,"  said  God  to  the 
nation  He  was  educating ;  "  keep  these  feasts, 
for  they  are  mine."  Now,  what  xvas  the  nature 
of  these  feasts,  my  brethren,  which  God  called 
his?  The  Bible  leaves  us  in  no  doubt  about 
them.  They  were  certain  seasons  set  apart  in 
every  year,  and  at  longer  intervals,  during  which 
the  nation  was  "  to  rejoice  before  the  Lord  their 
God."  Each  feast  commemorated  some  event 
in  the  nation's  life ;  either  a  solemn  act  of 
national  worship,  such  as  the  dedication  of  the 


288  THE  SCOURING   OF 

Temple ;  or  some  great  national  deliverance, 
such  as  the  Exodus  commemorated  by  the  feast 
of  Passover,  or  the  defeat  of  Haman's  plot  in 
the  reign  of  Ahasuerus,  commemorated  by  the 
feast  Purim ;  or  the  daily  care  of  God  for  his 
people,  in  giving  them  rain  and  fruitful  seasons, 
the  harvest  and  vintage,  the  increase  of  corn, 
and  wine,  and  oil,  commemorated  by  the  feast 
of  Pentecost. 

They  were  to  rejoice  before  the  Lord  their 
God  at  all  these  feasts.  With  what  outward 
actions  they  were  to  rejoice  we  are  not  expressly 
told  ;  probably  it  was  left  to  each  generation  to 
express  their  joy  in  their  own  way.  In  the  case 
of  the  Passover  we  know  that  they  were  to  eat 
a  lamb  and  unleavened  bread ;  and  we  gather, 
I  think,  from  many  places,  that  both  songs  and 
dancing  were  freely  used  at  the  feasts ;  but 
further  than  this  we  do  not  know  the  outward 
form  of  their  rejoicing. 

But  we  do  know  the  spirit  in  which  they  were 
to  keep  their  feasts,  the  temper  of  mind  in  which 
God  would  have  them  rejoice  before  Him.  This 
is  most  fully  proclaimed.  They  were  to  keep 
alive  in  themselves  and  one  another  the  mem- 
ory of  the  great  deliverances  and  blessings, 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  289 

which  had  been,  and  were  being  wrought  for 
them.  They  were  to  remember  that  these  de- 
liverances had  been  wrought  for  ignorant  de- 
spised bondmen,  that  these  blessings  were  being 
poured  down  on  a  stiffnecked  sinful  people. 
Remembering  these  things,  they  were  to  come 
to  their  feasts,  and  rejoice  "before  Him,  with 
humble  open  hearts,  thanking  Him  for  all  they 
possessed,  with  love  towards  their  brethren, 
ready  to  forgive  debts,  to  help  the  poor  to  his 
right,  and  to  acknowledge  and  glory  in  the  bond 
which  bound  them  all  together  in  one  nation. 

Moreover,  these  feasts  were  to  be  feasts  for 
the  whole  nation — for  the  rich  and  the  poor, 
the  free  man  and  the  slave,  "  for  thee,  and  thy 
man-servant,  and  thy  maid-servant ; "  for  those 
who  are  in  trouble  and  sorrow,  as  well  as  for 
the  prosperous  and  happy ;  "  for  the  stranger, 
and  fatherless,  and  widow  who  are  within  thy 
gates." 

One  thing  more  I  wish  you  to  notice  about 
the  Jewish  feasts ;  they  had  all  the  same  char- 
acter, all  were  God's  feasts — not  one  or  two 
religious  feasts,  as  we  should  say,  and  the  rest 
national,  but  all  God's  feasts,  and  all  national 
also.  There  is  no  hint  in  the  Bible  of  any  dis- 

13 


290  THE   SCOURING   OF 

tinction ;  all  feasts  ordained  for  the  nation  are 
God's  feasts,  and  their  feasts  also. 

Now  such  feasts — such  rejoicings  before  the 
Lord — as  these,  you  can  see  at  once  must  have 
had  no  slight  influence  on  the  nation  which 
kept  them.  Accordingly  we  find  them  inter- 
woven with  every  fibre  of  the  national  life  : 
sometimes  kept  as  God's  feasts — as  He  had 
said  they  were  to  be  kept — in  humbleness  and 
thankfulness,  in  breaking  bonds  and  forgiving 
debts ;  often,  as  though  they  had  been  not  his 
but  the  devil's  feasts,  in  persecuting  prophets 
and  slaying  righteous  men ;  and  no  doubt  also, 
as  the  natural  consequence,  in  debauchery,  glut- 
tony, and  hard  and  usurious  dealings  with  one 
another;  in  oppression  of  man-servant  and 
maid-servant,  the  widow,  the  fatherless,  and 
the  stranger.  But  in  whatever  way  the  feasts 
were  kept  they  were  always  exercising  a  great 
power  over  generation  after  generation. 

I  have  begun  by  talking  to  you  about  the 
Jewish  feasts,  my  brethren,  because  I  want  to 
speak  to  you  about  our  English  feasts ;  and  I 
think  if  we  understand  their  feasts  we  shall  very 
likely  learn  some  lessons  about  our  own  which 
may  do  us  good.  Now  we  English,  my  breth- 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  291 

ren,  as  a  nation,  have  neglected  this  matter  of 
feasts  too  much.  We  have  very  few  days  on 
which  we  rejoice  as  a  nation  —  in  fact  the 
Queen's  birthday  is  almost  our  only  national 
holiday,  and  this  day  we  keep  as  Englishmen, 
and  not  as  Christians;  while  the  feasts  which 
we  keep  as  Christians,  and  not  as  Englishmen 
(such  as  Christmas,  and  Easter,  and  Whitsun- 
tide), have  for  this  very  reason  lost  much  of 
their  worth  for  us ;  which  we  shall  recover,  when 
we  begin  to  keep  them  again,  not  the  less  as 
Christians,  but  more  as  Englishmen. 

It  is  my  earnest  hope  and  prayer  that  we 
may  mend  in  this  matter,  and  that  the  great 
Christian  festivals  and  the  Queen's  birthday 
may  so  become  all,  and  more  than  all,  to  us 
and  our  children,  which  the  Passover  and  Pente- 
cost were  to  the  Jews.  But  that  it  may  be  so, 
we  must,  in  this  as  in  all  other  matters,  begin 
mending  at  home,  in  our  own  families,  and  our 
own  parishes.  And  so,  my  brethren,  let  us  to- 
day think  about  the  feasts  which  we  keep  who 
live  in  this  parish,  in  the  Vale  of  White  Horse, 
who  worship  in  this  church. 

We  all  know  well  enough  what  these  feasts 
are.  First,  there  is  our  village  feast,  a  day  set 


292  THE  SCOURING  OF 

apart  in  every  year  which  is  specially  the  feast 
day  of  this  parish,  and  of  all  who  belong  to  it. 
Then  there  are  our  harvest  homes,  which  are 
not  parish  but  family  festivals  ;  when  the  farmer 
and  those  who  have  worked  with  him,  rejoice 
together  over  the  garnering  in  of  the  fruits  which 
God  has  given.  Lastly,  there  is  the  feast  which 
does  not  come  every  year,  but  at  longer  inter- 
vals, the  feast  of  Scouring  the  White  Horse, 
which  is  not  the  feast  of  one  parish,  but  of  the 
whole  country  side. 

A  few  words  as  to  the  meaning  of  these  feasts 
of  ours.  The  first  is  the  commemoration  of  the 
opening  of  this  parish  church,  and  its  dedication 
to  the  worship  of  God.  Your  harvest  homes 
you  know  the  meaning  of  as  well  as  I.  The 
third  is  the  commemoration  of  a  great  victory, 
won  a  thousand  years  ago  by  the  king  of  this 
country  against  an  army  of  heathen  invaders. 
I  remind  you  of  these  things  because  they  have 
been  too  much  forgotten,  and  we  never  can 
rightly  use  our  feasts  till  we  remember  them 
better. 

Well,  now,  remember  what  I  have  told  you 
about  the  Jewish  feasts,  or  rather  take  your 
Bibles  and  look  for  yourselves,  whether  I  tell 


THE  WHITE  HORSE.  293 

you  the  truth,  when  I  say,  that  our  feasts  are 
just  such  feasts  as  those  which  you  read  of 
there.  The  feasts  of  the  Jews  were  all  either 
feasts  in  remembrance  of  the  dedication  of  the 
Temple,  or  of  thanksgiving  for  the  good  gifts 
of  God,  or  of  commemoration  for  some  great 
national  deliverance. 

And  ours  are  the  very  same.  Do  not  think 
I  am  dealing  unfairly  with  you  in  comparing 
our  country  feasts  to  the  great  national  feasts 
of  the  Jews.  It  is  not  unfair  to  compare  small 
things  with  great :  families,  parishes,  nations, 
must  stand  or  fall  by  the  same  laws.  A  society 
cannot  do  evil  or  good  without  reaping  the 
fruits  thereof,  whether  it  be  very  small  or  very 
great.  Do  not  think  that  I  ought  to  speak  of 
the  great  Christian  festivals,  Christmas  and 
Easter;  they  are  better  understood  and  kept, 
though  very  badly  as  yet.  I  believe  -I  am  tak- 
ing the  right  way  to  make  you  understand  and 
keep  these  world-wide  Christian  feasts  properly 
by  bringing  you  down  to  these  common  insig- 
nificant feasts  of  ours,  which  we,  the  members 
of  this  parish  and  congregation,  have  power 
over ;  which  we  can  make  good  or  evil ;  for  the 
use  or  abuse  of  which  we  shall  be  called  to 
account  by  God. 


294  THE   SCOURING   OF  . 

For  "  thus  saith  the  Lord,"  to  us  as  He  said 
to  the  Jews,  "  these  are  my  feasts."  They  are 
his,  my  brethren,  whether  we  like  it  or  not; 
they  are  his,  though  we  may  try  to  make  them 
ours,  and  so  make  them  the  devil's.  There  is 
no  neutral  ground,  no  escape  from  the  hard 
fact.  Let  us  see  now  if  we  cannot  accept  them, 
and  use  them  as  his.  Let  us  see  whether  they 
will  be  less  or  more  to  us  if  we  do  so.  We 
shall  find  the  trial  worth  making,  I  think,  in 
the  end. 

They  are  his  feasts :  how,  then,  can  we  come 
to  them  as  his  guests — guests  who  will  be 
pleasing  to  him,  who  will  use  his  feasts  as  he 
would  have  us?  For  if  we  go  to  a  man's 
feast,  the  first  thing  we  have  to  do  is  to  go  in 
such  a  temper  and  such  a  dress  as  will  make 
us  acceptable  guests;  and  shall  we  do  less  as 
the  guests  of  God  ? 

The  first  thing,  then,  we  have  to  consider  is 
the  temper,  the  state  of  mind  in  which  we 
should  go  to  our  feasts  ;  and  here,  as  I  said 
before,  the  Bible  tells  us  all  we  want  to  know. 
The  temper  which  he  required  of  the  Jews,  he 
will  require  of  us.  At  his  feasts  we  have  spe- 
cially two  things  to  do,  to  remember  and  to  re- 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  295 

joice.  To  remember  the  loving-kindness  which 
he  has  shown  to  our  fathers  and  to  us,  in 
delivering  us  many  a  time  from  the  hand  of 
enemies  who  were  stronger  than  we ;  in  giving 
us  a  Church,  where  for  many  hundred  years  the 
prayers  of  generation  after  generation  had  gone 
up  to  him,  the  God  of  all  truth ;  in  giving  us 
the  rich  increase  of  his  earth,  year  after  year. 
Remembering  these  things,  then,  we  are  to  keep 
the  feast  in  humility,  for  our  own  unworthiness  ; 
in  thankfulness,  for  his  tender  care  and  un- 
bounded love. 

And  we  are  also  to  rejoice  before  him,  as 
members  of  a  family,  of  a  parish,  of  a  country  ; 
thinking,  therefore,  of  others,  and  not  of  our- 
selves ;  making  up  quarrels,  exercising  hospi- 
tality to  all  according  to  our  means,  seeking  to 
do  kindnesses  to  all  who  need  them,  to  our 
debtors,  to  the  oppressed  and  unfortunate 
amongst  us,  to  the  widows,  the  fatherless,  and 
the  stranger ;  and  in  all  ways  strengthening 
and  deepening  the  bond  which  binds  us  to  one 
another,  and  to  him. 

This,  my  brethren,  is  the  temper  and  state  of 
mind  which  he  required  of  the  Jews  of  old, 
and  which  he  requires  of  us  at  these  times 


290  THE   SCOURING    OF 

especially.  Think  what  our  feasts  would  be, 
what  our  whole  lives  would  be,  if  we  tried  to 
remember  and  to  rejoice  before  the  Lord  thus. 

If  we  come  to  his  feasts  in  this  temper,  my 
brethren,  it  matters  comparatively  little  what 
our  outward  acts  of  rejoicing  may  be.  If  our 
hearts  are  right  towards  the  Lord  of  the  feast 
and  to  one  another,  our  dress  and  actions  are 
surely  right  also,  or  will  soon  become  so.  Never- 
theless, this  is  a  matter  of  plain,  practical  im- 
portance, and  I  am  not  going  to  shrink  from 
it.  I  wish  to  consider  with  you,  how  we  keep 
his  feasts  and  our  feasts  now  ;  whether  our 
method  of  keeping  them  i«  a  true  expression 
of  that  temper  and  spirit  in  which  they  ought 
to  be  kept,  whether  any  thing  better  can  be 
suggested. 

On  these  points,  as  I  said  above,  we  have 
not  the  same  help  which  we  had  before.  We 
know  very  little  of  how  the  Jews  rejoiced ;  we 
may  be  sure  that  we  are  not  meant  to  copy 
the  little  we  do  know,  such  as  the  eating  of  a 
lamb  roasted  whole  with  unleavened  bread.  It 
is  left  for  us  to  find  out,  and  to  do,  such  acts 
as  may  be  done  by  those  who  are  humble,  and 
thankful,  and  loving  in  heart,  towards  God  and 
towards  each  other. 


THE    WHITE    HORSE.  297 

Now  there  is  one -thing  which  one  sees  at 
once  is  wanting  in  our  celebration  of  these 
feasts.  In  the  times  when  they  were  estab- 
lished, it  was  the  chief  act  of  them,  that  which 
gave  meaning  to  them,  and  kept  alive  that 
meaning.  We  have  neglected  and  disused  it, 
and  so  they  have  become  all  but  meaningless 
to  us,  mere  seasons  in  which  we  are  to  enjoy 
more  pleasures  than  in  ordinary  times.  This 
thing  which  we  have  forgotten  is  public  fellow- 
worship,  and  it  ought  to  be  restored  as  soon  as 
possible.  At  the  yearly  meetings  of  many  of 
your  benefit  and  other  clubs,  the  members  go 
all  together  to  the  church,  and  there  worship 
before  attending  to  their  business  and  their 
pleasure.  Why  should  not  a  parish  do  the 
same  ?  I  know  nothing  which  would  so  easily 
and  so  effectually  raise  the  tone  of  our  village 
feast  as  the  regular  celebration  of  worship  on 
that  day,  in  the  Church,  the  dedication  and  con- 
secration of  which,  to  the  worship  of  God,  was 
the  cause  of  the  holiday. 

In  one  respect  I  believe  that  we  are.  to  some 
extent,  still  keeping  the  feast  as  we  ought.  I 
believe  that  on  that  day  young  people  who 
were  born  in  the  parish  and  have  left  it,  make 

18  * 


298  THE   SCOURING   OF 

a  point,  if  possible,  of  getting  back  to  see  their 
fathers  and  mothers,  and  friends,  and  to  revive 
old  associations,  often  bringing  with  them  part 
of  their  wages  or  some  present ;  that  many  of 
the  silly  quarrels  and  feuds  which  have  arisen 
during  the  year  are  then  set  to  rest;  that  the 
residents  in  the  parish  make  some  exertion  to 
welcome  their  visitors  hospitably,  and  that  a 
general  kindly  feeling  is  common  throughout 
the  parish.  I  believe  that  this  is  still  so,  to 
some  extent ;  but  I  fear  that  it  is  becoming  less 
and  less  so.  My  brethren,  all  this  is  right,  and 
true,  and  honest ;  this  is  the  way  to  keep  God's 
feasts ;  you  can't  go  too  far  in  this  direction 
(except  by  spending  more  money  than  you  can 
afford,  which  is  always  wrong).  But  the  more 
you  can  deepen  old  family  and  local  ties  on 
these  occasions,  the  more  you  can  heal  up  quar- 
rels, and  forgive  debts  (both  other  debts,  and 
money  debts — remember  that  there  is  no  duty 
more  insisted  on  in  God's  Word  than  this  of 
forgiving  money  debts  at  these  times),  and  ex- 
ercise hospitality  one  to  another  without  grudg- 
ing, the  more  will  you  be  keeping  God's  feasts 
as  he  would  have  you  keep  them. 

Then  there  are  the  sports  for  which  prizes  are 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  299 

given.  There  is  no  need  to  specify  them  all, 
and  I  shall  therefore  only  speak  of  the  one 
which  is  considered  the  most  objectionable — 
which  many  people  think  should  be  stopped 
altogether — I  mean  wrestling.  Whatever  I  may 
say  on  this  will  apply  to  all  the  rest.  Now,  my 
brethren,  are  wrestling  matches  a  proper  way  of 
keeping  God's  feasts  ?  That  is  the  question  we 
have  to  answer. 

The  object  of  wrestling  and  of  all  other  ath- 
letic sports  is  to  strengthen  men's  bodies,  and 
to  teach  them  to  use  their  strength  readily,  to 
keep  their  tempers,  to  endure  fatigue  and  pain. 
These  are  ah1  noble  ends,  my  brethren.  God 
gives  us  few  more  valuable  gifts  than  strength 
of  body,  and  courage,  and  endurance — to  you 
labouring  men  they  are  beyond  all  price.  We 
ought  to  cultivate  them  in  all  right  ways,  for 
they  are  given  us  to  protect  the  weak,  to  subdue 
the  earth,  to  fight  for  our  homes  and  country  if 
necessary. 

Therefore  I  say  that  wrestling,  inasmuch  as  it 
is  a  severe  trial  of  strength,  temper,  and  endur- 
ance, may  be,  and  ought  to  be,  one  of  many 
right  and  proper  ways  of  rejoicing  before  God 
at  these  feasts.  And  I  say  to  any  man  who  has 


300  THE   SCOURING   OF 

strength  for  it,  and  can  keep  his  temper,  and 
carries  away  no  vain  or  proud  thoughts  if  he 
wins,  and  no  angry  or  revengeful  thoughts  if 
he  loses,  play  by  all  means.  No  doubt  there 
are  men  who  ought  not  to  play,  who  ought  to 
abstain  wholly  from  these  games,  as  some  men 
ought  to  abstain  wholly  from  drink,  who  can- 
not use  such  things  temperately,  which  is  the 
more  worthy  and  manly  way — men  so  con- 
stituted that  these  sort  of  games  rouse  all  that 
is  brutal  in  their  natures,  others  who  become 
braggarts  and  bullies  from  success  in  them.  To 
such  men  (and  each  of  you  can  easily  find 
out  whether  he  is  such  a  man)  I  say  abstain 
wholly. 

Having  said  this,  brethren,  I  must  add  that 
great  changes  should  be  made  in  the  conduct 
or  management  of  these  games.  They  should 
never,  on  any  pretence  or  plea  whatever,  be  left 
in  the  hands  of  publicans.  You  should  always 
endeavour  to  play  in  sides  (as  is,  I  believe, 
the  most  common  custom)  for  your  county  or 
your  parish,  and  not  for  yourselves,  as  you  are 
much  more  likely  in  that  way  to  play  bravely 
and  fairly.  Money  prizes  should  be  if  possible 
avoided,  for  money  is  the  lowest  motive  for 


THE   WHITE  HORSE.  301 

which  men  can  undertake  any  work  or  any 
game.  And  lastly,  every  one  of  you  should 
exercise  his  whole  strength  and  influence  in 
putting  down  at  once  all  brutality  and  bluster 
and  foul  play. 

As  to  the  rest  of  the  amusements,  the  visit- 
ing shows,  the  eating  and  drinking,  the  dancing 
and  music,  I  believe  them  all  in  themselves  to 
be  lawful  and  right  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  fit 
things  to  do  when  we  are  rejoicing  before  Him. 
But,  my  brethren,  I  do  not  think  them  lawful 
and  right,  or  fit  things  to  be  done  before  any- 
body but  the  devil,  when  they  end  in  such 
scenes  as,  I  fear — as  I  know — they  often  do 
end  in  at  our  feasts.  No  wonder  that  the 
feasts  are  falling  off  year  by  year ;  that  they 
cease  to  interest  decent  and  respectable  peo- 
ple who  used  to  care  about  them,  when  they 
are  deliberately  turned  by  some  into  scenes  of 
drunkenness  and  profligacy,  which  can  scarcely 
be  surpassed  amongst  savages  and  heathens. 

I  need  not  dwell  on  this,  for  you  all  know 
well  enough  what  I  mean.  You  all  know, 
too — the  voice  within  you  teUs  each  of  you 
plainly  enough — the  moment  you  are  going 
beyond  the  proper  limits  in  these  matters.  It 


302  THE   SCOURING   OF 

is  no  use  to  lay  down  rules  on  such  subjects. 
Every  man  and  every  woman  must  be  a  law 
to  themselves.  One  can  do  safely  what  would 
ruin  another.  And 'here  again  I  say,  as  I  said 
before,  the  use  of  these  things  is  right  and 
good,  and  what  God  approves  of,  who  in  his 
infinite  love  has  given  us  the  power  of  enjoy- 
ing all  these  things,  and  the  things  themselves 
to  enjoy — music,  and  dancing,  and  pleasant 
company,  and  food  and  drink.  The  abuse  of 
them  is  of  the  devil,  and  destroys  body  and 
soul. 

I  beseech  you  all  to  think  of  what  I  have 
said,  and  endeavour,  each  in  your  own  way, 
to  retain,  or  to  bring  back,  if  necessary,  God's 
feasts  into  your  own  parishes.  You,  old  and 
grown-up  men  and  women,  by  living  soberly 
and  righteously;  never  making  mischief,  or 
quarrelling ;  treating  your  children  with  for- 
bearance and  love,  doing  your  own  work,  and 
helping  others  to  do  theirs.  To  you  young 
men,  I  say,  as  Solomon  said,  rejoice  in  your 
youth ;  rejoice  in  your  strength  of  body,  and 
elasticity  of  spirits,  and  the  courage  which  fol- 
lows from  these;  but  remember  that  for  these 
gifts  you  will  be  judged — not  condemned,  mind, 


THE   WHITE  HOESE.  303 

but  judged.  You  will  have  to  show  before 
a  Judge  who  knoweth  your  inmost  hearts, 
that  you  have  used  these  his  great  gifts  well; 
that  you  have  been  pure,  and  manly,  and 
true. 

And  to  you,  young  women,  I  can  but  say 
the  same.  Beauty,  and  purity,  and  youth,  and 
merry  light  hearts,  and  all  the  numberless  at- 
tractions which  have  been  poured  upon  you, 
are  tremendous  influences  for  good  or  evil, — 
gifts  for  which  you  will  have  to  give  an  ac- 
count. Rejoice  in  them ;  use  them  freely ;  but 
avoid,  as  you  would  death  itself,  all  rivalry 
with  one  another,  all  attempts  to  exercise  power 
over  men  you  do  not  care  for,  every  light 
thought,  and  word,  and  look.  For  the  light 
word  or  look  is  but  a  step  from  the  impure, 
and  the  experience  of  the  whole  world  is 
telling  you 

"  How  mirth  can  into  folly  glide, 
And  folly  into  sin." 

But  now  to  conclude.  You  may  ask,  how 
are  we  all  to  keep  these  things  in  mind  ?  how, 
when  we  are  all  met  together  to  enjoy  our- 
selves, can  we  be  ever  on  the  watch  for  this 


304  THE   SCOURING   OF 

evil,  which  you  say  is  so  near  us  ?  You  can- 
not, my  brethren ;  but  One  is  with  you,  is  in 
you,  who  can  and  will,  if  you  will  let  him. 

Men  found  this  out  in  the  old  time,  and  have 
felt  it  and  known  it  ever  since.  Three  thou- 
sand years  ago  this  truth  dawned  upon  the 
old  Psalmist,  and  struck  him  with  awe.  He 
struggled  with  it;  he  tried  to  escape  from  it, 
but  in  vain.  "  Whither  shall  I  go  then,"  he 
says,  "  from  thy  spirit  ?  or  whither  shall  I  flee 
then  from  thy  presence  ?  If  I  go  up  to  heaven, 
Thou  art  there :  if  I  go  down  to  hell,  Thou  art 
there  also.  If  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning, 
and  reside  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea; 
even  there  also  shall  thy  hand  lead  me,  and 
thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me." 

Is  any  of  us  stronger  or  wiser  than  the 
Psalmist?  Is  there  any  place  for  us  to  flee 
to,  which  \vas  not  open  to  him  ?  My  brethren, 
had  we  not  better  make  up  our  minds  to  accept 
and  acknowledge  the  truth,  to  which  our  own 
consciences  bear  witness ;  that,  not  only  in 
heaven,  and  in  hell,  and  in  the  uttermost  parts 
of  sea  and  earth,  He  is  present,  but  that  in 
the  inmost  recesses  of  our  own  hearts  there  is 
no  escape  from  his  Spirit — that  He  is  there 


THE   WHITE   HORSE.  305 

also,  sustaining  us,  pleading  with  us,  punish- 
ing us. 

We  know  it  by  the  regret  we  feel  for  time 
wasted  and  opportunities  neglected ;  by  the 
loathing  coming  back  to  us,  time  after  time, 
for  our  every  untrue  or  mean  thought,  word, 
or  deed ;  by  every  longing  after  truth,  and  right- 
eousness, and  purity,  which  stirs  our  sluggish 
souls.  By  all  these  things,  and  in  a  thousand 
other  ways,  we  feel  it,  we  know  it. 

Let  us,  then,  come  to  our  feasts  owning  this, 
and  giving  ourselves  up  to  his  guidance.  At 
first  it  will  be  hard  work ;  our  will  and  spirits 
will  be  like  a  lump  of  ice  in  a  man's  hand, 
which  yields  but  slowly  to  the  warm  pressure. 
But  do  not  despair ;  throw  yourselves  on  his 
guidance,  and  he  will  guide  you,  he  will  hide 
you  under  his  wings,  you  shall  be  safe  under 
his  feathers,  his  faithfulness  and  truth  shall  be 
your  shield  and  buckler. 

The  ice  will  melt  into  water,  and  the  water 
will  lie  there  in  the  hollow  of  the  hand,  moving 
at  the  slightest  motion,  obeying  every  impulse 
which  is  given  to  it. 

My  brethren,  the  Spirit  of  God  which  is  in 
every  one  of  us — the  Spirit  of  truth  and  love 


306 


THE   SCOURING   OF  THE   WHITE  HORSE. 


unchangeable — will  take  possession  of  our  spir- 
its, if  we  will  but  let  him,  and  turn  not  only 
our  feasts  into  feasts  of  the  Lord,  but  our 
whole  lives  into  the  lives  of  children  of  God, 
and  joint-heirs  of  heaven  with  his  Son. 


APPENDIX. 


NOTE  I. 

THE  earliest  authentic  historical  notices  of  the  "White 
Horse  are.  so  far  as  I  am  aware, — 

1st.  A  Cartulary  of  the  Abbey  of  Abingdon,  now  in 
the  British  Museum,  of  the  time  of  Henry  II.,  the 
exact  date  of  it  being,  it  is  believed,  A.D.  1171.  It 
runs  as  follows :  "  Consuetudinis  apud  Anglos  tune 
erat,  ut  monachi  qui  vellent  pecuniarum  patrimoniorum 


308  APPENDIX. 

qui  forent  susceptibiles,  ipsisque  fruentes  quomodo  pla- 
ceret  diapensarent.  Unde  et  in  Abbendonia  duo,  Leo- 
fricus  et  Godricus  Gild  appellati,  quorum  unus  Godricus, 
Spersholt  juxta  locum  qui  vulgo  mons  Albi  Equi 
nuncupatur,  alter  Leofricus  Hwitceorce  super  flumen 
Tamisie  maneria  sita  patriraoniali  jure  obtinebant,"  &c. 

2dly.  Another  Cartulary  of  the  same  Abbey,  of  the 
reign  of  Richard  I.,  which  runs  as  follows  :  "  Prope 
montem  ubi  ad  Album  Equum  scanditur,  ab  antiquo 
tempore  Ecclesia  ista  manerium  Offentum  appellatum 
in  dominio  possidet,  juxta  quod  villa  X  hidarum  adjacet 
ex  jure  Ecclesiaa  quam  Speresholt  nominavit,"  &c. 

3dly.  An  entry  on  the  Close  Rolls,  42  Ed.  III.,  or 
A.D.  1368-9 : — "  Gerard  de  1'Isle  tient  en  la  vale  de 
White  Horse  one  fee,"  &c.  See  Archasologia,  vol.  xxxi. 
p.  290.  Letter  from  William  Thorns,  Esq.  to  J.  Y. 
Ackerman,  Esq.,  Secretary. 

Coming  down  to  comparatively  modern  times,  it  is 
curious  that  so  little  notice  should  have  been  taken  of 
the  White  Horse  by  our  antiquaries.  Wise,  in  his 
Letter  to  Dr.  Mead  (1738),  which  has  been  already 
quoted  from  in  the  text,  regrets  this,  and  then  adds : 
"  Leland's  journey  does  not  seem  to  have  carried  him 
this  way,  nor  does  .Camden  here  go  out  of  the  other's 
track  ;  though  he  mentions,  upon  another  occasion,  and 
by  the  bye,  The  White  Horse ;  but  in  such  a  manner, 
that  I  could  wish,  for  his  own  sake,  he  had  passed  it 
over  in  silence  with  the  rest  For  his  own  account 


APPENDIX.  309 

is  altogether  so  unbecoming  so  faithful  and  accurate 
an  author,  insinuating  to  his  readers  that  it  has  no 
existence  but  in  the  imagination  of  country  people. 
'  The  Thames]  says  he,  'falls  into  a  valley,  which  they 
call  The  Vale  of  White  Horse,  from  I  know  not  what 
shape  of  a  Horse  fancied  on  the  side  of  a  whitish  Hill" 
Much  nearer  to  the  truth  is  Mr.  Aubrey,  however  wide 
of  the  mark,  who,  in  the  additions  to  the  Britannia, 
says  :  '  I  leave  others  to  determine,  whether  the  White 
Horse  on  the  Hill  was  made  by  Hengist,  since  the 
Horse  was  the  arms  or  figure  in  Hengist's  standard.' 
The  author  of  a  '  Tour  through  England,'  is  a  little 
more  particular,  though  he  leaves  us  as  much  in  the 
dark  about  the  antiquity  and  design  of  it.  '  Between 
this  town  of  Marlborow  and  Abingdon,  is  the  Vale  of 
White  Horse.  The  inhabitants  tell  a  great  many  fabu- 
lous stories  of  the  original  of  its  name ;  but  there  is 
nothing  of  foundation  in  them,  that  I  could  find.  The 
whole  of  the  story  is  this :  Looking  south  from  the 
Vale,  we  see  a  trench  cut  on  the  side  of  a  high,  green 
hill,  in  the  shape  of  a  horse,  and  not  ill-shaped  neither ; 
the  trench  is  about  a  yard  deep,  and  filled  almost  up 
with  chalk,  so  that  at  a  distance  you  see  the  exact 
shape  of  a  White  Horse,  but  so  large,  as  to  take  up 
near  an  acre  of  ground,  some  say  almost  two  acres. 
From  this  figure,  the  Hill  is  called  in  our  maps,  White 
Horse  Hill,  and  the  low  or  flat  country  under  it  the 
Vale  of  White  Horse.'"  (See  pp.  30,  31.) 


310  APPENDIX. 


NOTE  II. 

Medeshatnstede,  however,  was  restored  with  great 
splendour  in  the  year  963.  The  account  in  the  Saxon 
Chronicle  is  so  illustrative  of  what  was  going  on  in 
England  at  the  time,  that  I  think  I  may  be  allowed  to 
give  it,  especially  as  the  restoration  was  the  work  of  a 
Vale  of  White  Horse  man,  Ethel  wold,  Abbot  of  Abing- 
don,  who  was  in  this  year  made  Bishop  of  Winchester. 

Edgar  was  king,  and  Dunstan  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury— Ethelwold,  after  strong  measures  at  Winches- 
ter, (where  "  he  drove  the  clerks  out  of  the  bishopric 
because  they  would  not  observe  any  rule,  and  he  set 
the  monks  there,")  "  went  to  the  king  and  begged  of 
him  that  he  would  give  him  all  the  minsters  which 
heathen  men  had  of  old  time  broken  down,  because  he 
would  restore  them ;  and  the  king  joyfully  granted  it." 
Then  he  restored  Ely,  and  "  after  that  came  Bishop 
Ethelwold  to  the  minster  which  was  called  Medesham- 
stede,  which  of  old  time  had  been  destroyed  by  heathen 
men.  He  found  nothing  there  but  old  walls  and  wild 
woods.  There  found  he  hidden  in  the  old  walls  writ- 
ings that  Abbot  Hudda  had  erewhile  written,  how  king 
Wulfhere  and  Ethelred  his  brother  had  built  it,  and 
how  they  had  freed  it  against  king  and  against  bishop, 
and  against  all  secular  service,  and  how  the  pope  Aga- 
tho  had  confirmed  the  same  by  his  rescript,  a-nd  the 


APPENDIX.  311 

archbishop  '  deo  dedit.'  Then  caused  he  the  minster 
to  be  built,  and  set  there  an  abbot  who  was  called  Adulf, 
and  caused  monks  to  be  there  where  before  was  noth- 
ing. Then  came  he  to  the  king  and  caused  him  to 
look  at  the  writings  which  before  were  found,  and  the 
king  answered  then  and  said,  I,  Edgar,  grant  and  give 
to-day  before  God  and  before  the  Archbishop  Dunstan, 
freedom  to  St.  Peter's  minster,  from  king  and  from 
bishop,  and  all  the  villages  that  lie  thereto,  that  is  to 
say,  Eastfield,  and  Dodthorp,  and  Eye,  and  Paxton. 
And  thus  I  free  it,  that  no  bishop  have  there  any  com- 
mand without  the  abbot  of  the  minster.  And  I  give 
the  town  which  is  called  Oundle,  with  all  which  thereto 
lieth,  that  is  to  say,  that  which  is  called  (  the  eight  hun- 
dreds,' and  market  and  toll  so  freely  that  neither  king, 
nor  bishop,  nor  earl,  nor  sheriff  have  there  any  com- 
mand, nor  any  man  except  the  Abbot  alone  and  him 
whom  he  thereto  appointeth  " — and  after  giving  other 
lands  to  Christ  and  St.  Peter  through  the  prayer  of 
Bishop  Ethelwold,  "  with  sack  and  sock,  toll  and  team, 
and  infangthief,"  and  willing  "  that  a  market  be  in  the 
same  town,  and  no  other  be  between  Stamford  and 
Huntingdon,"  the  king  ends :  "  And  I  will  that  all 
liberties  and  all  the  remissions  that  my  predecessors 
have  given,  that  they  stand,  and  I  sign  and  confirm  it 
with  Christ's  rood  token.>5«"  "  Then  Dunstan  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  answered  and  said,  I  grant 
that  all  the  things  which  are  here  given  and  spoken  of, 


312  APPENDIX. 

and  all  the  things  which  thy  predecessors  and  mine 
have  conceded,  those  will  I  that  they  stand  ;  and  who- 
soever this  breaketh,  then  give  I  him  the  curse  of  God, 
and  of  all  saints,  and  of  all  ordained  heads,  and  of 
myself,  unless  he  come  to  repentance.  And  I  give  in 
acknowledgment  to  St.  Peter  my  mass-hackel,  and  my 
stole,  and  my  reef,  for  the  service  of  Christ."  "  I,  Os- 
wald, Archbishop  of  York,  assent  to  all  these  words,  by 
the  holy  rood  which  Christ  suffered  on.>Jl"  "  I,  Ethel- 
wold,  bless  all  who  shall  observe  this,  and  I  excommu- 
nicate all  who  shall  break  this,  unless  he  come  to  re- 
pentance." So  the  minster  at  Medeshamstede  was  set 
up  again  under  Adulf,  who  bought  lands  and  greatly 
enriched  it,  till  Oswald  died,  and  he  was  chosen  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  and  was  succeeded  as  abbot  by  Ke- 
nulph,  who  "  first  made  the  wall  about  the  minster ; 
then  gave  he  that  to  name  Peterborough  which  was 
before  called  Medeshamstede." — Saxon  Chronicle  A.D. 
963. 

NOTE  III. 

SITE    OF   THE    BATTLE    OF    ASHDOWN. 

THERE  are  four  spots  in  Berkshire  which  claim  the 
honour  of  being  the  CEscendun  of  the  chroniclers,  where 
JEthelred  and  Alfred  gained  their  great  victory ;  they 
"are  Ilsley,  Ashamstead,  Aston  in  the  parish  of  Blu- 
berry,  and  Ashdown,  close  to  White  Horse  Hill.  Now 


APPENDIX.  313 

it  seems  clear  that  Ashdown  was,  in  Saxon  times,  the 
name  of  a  district  stretching  over  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  the  Berkshire  chalk  range,  and  it  is  quite  pos- 
sible that  all  of  the  above  sites  may  have  been  included 
in  that  district ;  therefore,  I  do  not  insist  much  upon 
the  name,  though  whatever  weight  is  to  be  attached  to 
it,  must  tell  in  favour  of  the  latter  site,  that  of  Ash- 
down.  Let  us,  however,  consider  the  other  qualifica- 
tions of  the  rival  sites. 

That  of  Ilsley  is  supported,  so  far  as  I  know,  only 
by  Hewitt  in  his  antiquities  of  the  Hundred  of  Comp- 
ton  (1844)  ;  and  his  argument  rests  chiefly  on  the 
fitness  of  the  ground  for  the  scene  of  a  great  battle. 
He  tells  us  that  the  detachments  of  three  Waterloo 
regiments,  marching  through  Ilsley  in  1816,  when  they 
came  to  the  spot,  stopped  and  called  out,  "  Waterloo ! 
Waterloo!"  to  one  another.  He  also  states  that  the 
name  Ilsley  is,  in  fact,  "  Hilde  laeg,"  the  field  of  battle ; 
but  as  he  has  no  tradition  in  his  favour,  and  cannot,  so 
far  as  I  know,  point  to  any  remains  in  the  neighbour- 
hood in  support  of  his  theory,  I  think  his  case  must 
fail,  and  only  mention  it  to  show  that  I  have  not  over- 
looked the  claim. 

Ashamstead,  situate  five  miles  to  the  southeast  of 
Ilsley,  is  named  by  the  Lysons  in  their  topographical 
account  of  Berkshire  as  the  probable  site  of  the  battle, 
but  they  give  no  reasons,  and  are  unsupported  by  tradi- 
tion or  remains. 

H 


314  APPENDIX. 

Aston  has  a  stronger  case.  It  is  situate  between 
"Wallingford  and  Ilsley.  The  range  of  chalk  hills  rises 
just  above  it,  and  one  detached  hill  is  here  thrown  out 
into  the  vale,  on  which  are  still  visible  considerable 
earthworks.  There  is  a  chapel  called  Thorn  Chapel 
on  the  eastern  slope  of  this  hill,  and  I  am  told  there  is 
a  tradition  that  this  chapel  was  built  on  the  spot  where 
some  Saxon  king  heard  mass  on  the  morning  of  a 
battle.  It  is  suggested  by  Mr.  Lousley  and  others,  that 
the  Saxons  occupied  this  outlying  hill,  the  Danes  the 
opposite  range ;  and  that  the  battle  was  fought  in  the 
valley  between,  where,  when  the  road  was  recently 
altered,  a  number  of  bones  were  found,  apparently 
thrown  in  together  without  care,  as  would  be  the  case 
after  a  battle.  There  are,  however,  no  regular  barrows 
or  other  remains.  Bishop  Gibson  is  in  favour  of  this 
spot,  on  account,  as  it  would  seem,  of  a  passage  in  the 
Saxon  Chronicle  for  the  year  1006,  which  runs  as  fol- 
lows :  "  They "  (the  Danes)  "  destroyed  Wallingford, 
and  passed  a  night  at  Cholsey."  Then  they  "  turned 
along  Ashdown  to  Cwichelmes  Low." 

The  bishop  says,  that  Cwichelmes  Low  (the  low  or 
hill  of  King  Cwichelm,  who  reigned  in  these  parts,  and 
died  in  the  year  636  A.D.)  is  Cuckhamsley  Hill,  or 
Scuchamore  Knob,  as  it  is  generally  called ;  a  high 
hill  in  the  same  chalk  range,  about  ten  miles  east  of 
White  Horse  Hill ;  and  he  argues  that,  as  the  Danes 
went  from  Wallingford,  by  Ashdown,  to  Cwichelmes 


APPENDIX.  315 

Low,  we  must  look  for  Ashdown  between  Wallingford 
and  Cuckhamsley  Hill.  Now  Aston  lies  directly  be- 
tween the  two,  therefore  Aston  is  Ashdown,  and  the 
site  of  the  battle.  But  the  place  now  called  Ashdown 
is  on  the  further  side  of  Cuckhamsley  Hill  from  Wal- 
lingford— therefore  the  Danes  could  not  have  passed 
it  in  getting  from  Wallingford  to  Cuckhamsley  Hill — 
therefore  the  modern  Ashdown  cannot  be  the  site  of 
the  battle. 

To  this  I  answer,  First,  the  Bishop  assumes  that 
Cwichelmes  Low  is  Cuckhamsley  Hill,  without  giving 
any  reason. 

Secondly,  assuming  Cwichelmes  Low  and  Cuckhams- 
ley Hill  to  be  identical ;  yet,  as  Ashdown  was  clearly 
a  large  tract  of  country,  the  Danes  might  go  from  Wal- 
lingford, along  a  part  of  it,  to  Cwichelmes  Low  without 
passing  the  battle-field. 

Thirdly,  the  name  Aston  is  written  "  Estone "  in 
Domesday  Book ;  meaning  "  East  town,"  or  enclosure, 
and  not  "  Mons  fraxini,"  the  "  Hill  of  the  Ash-tree." 

Fourthly,  -ZEthelred  and  Alfred  would  have  kept  to 
the  hills  in  their  retreat,  and  never  have  allowed  the 
Danes  to  push  them  out  into  the  Thames-valley,  where 
the  Pagan  cavalry  would  have  been  invaluable  ;  but 
this  must  have  been  the  case,  if  we  suppose  Aston  to 
be  the  site  of  the  battle.  Lastly,  all  the  above  sites 
are  too  near  to  Reading,  the  farthest  being  only  sixteen 
miles  from  that  town.  But  JEthelred  and  Alfred  had 


316  APPENDIX. 

been  retreating  three  days,  and  would  therefore  much 
more  probably  be  found  at  Ashdown  by  White  Horse 
Hill,  which  is  ten  miles  farther  along  the  range  of 
hills. 

Ashdown,  the  remaining  site,  and  the  one  which  I 
believe  to  be  the  true  one,  is  the  down  which  surrounds 
White  Horse  Hill,  in  the  parish  of  Uffington.  On  the 
highest  point  of  the  hill,  which  is  893  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea,  stands  Uffington  Castle,  a  plain  of  more 
than  eight  acres  in  extent,  surrounded  by  earthworks, 
and  a  single  deep  ditch,  which  Camden,  and  other  high 
authorities,  say  are  Danish. 

There  is  another  camp,  with  earthworks,  called  Hard- 
well  Camp,  about  a  mile  W.N.W.  of  Uffington  Castle, 
and  a  third  smaller  circular  camp,  enJled  King  Alfred's 
camp,  about  a  mile  to  the  S.W.,  which  may  still  be 
made  out,  close  to  the  wall  of  Ashdown  Park,  Lord 
Craven's  seat,  although  Aubrey  says,  that  in  his  time 
the  works  were  "  almost  quite  defaced,  by  digging  for 
the  Sarsden  stones  to  build  my  Lord  Craven's  house  in 
the  Park."  Wise  suggests  that  the  Danes  held  Uffing- 
ton Castle ;  that  JEthelred  was  in  Hardwell-camp,  and 
Alfred  in  Alfred's  camp.  A  mile  and  a  half  to  the 
eastward,  in  which  direction  the  battle  must  have  rolled, 
as  the  Saxons  slowly  gained  the  day,  is  a  place  called 
the  Seven  Barrows,  where  are  seven  circular  burial- 
mounds,  and  several  other  large  irregularly-shaped 
mounds,  full  of  bones ;  the  light  soil  which  covers  the 


APPENDIX.  317 

chalk  is  actually  black  around  them.  The  site  agrees 
in  all  points  with  the  description  in  the  chroniclers ;  it 
is  the  proper  distance  from  Reading ;  the  name  is  the 
one  used  by  the  chroniclers, — "Ash-down,"  "Mons 
Fraxini,"  "JEscendun ; "  it  is  likely  that  ^Ethelred 
would  have  fought  somewhere  hereabouts  to  protect 
Wantage,  a  royal  burg,  and  his  birthplace,  which  would 
have  been  otherwise  at  the  mercy  of  the  enemy ;  and 
lastly,  there — and  not  at  Cuckhamsley  Hill,  or  else- 
where— is  carved  the  "White  Horse,  which  has  been 
from  time  immemorial  held  to  be  a  monument  of  the 
great  victory  of  Ashdown.  For  the  above  reasons,  I 
think  we  are  justified  in  claiming  this  as  the  sit  of 
the  battle. 


NOTE  IV. 
WAYLAND  SMITH'S  CAVE. 

Wise  (see  p.  35)  says  he  thinks  he  has  discovered 
the  place  of  burial  of  King  Basreg,  Bagseeg  (or  what- 
ever his  name  might  be,  for  it  is  given  in  seven  or 
eight  different  ways  in  the  chroniclers),  in  Way  land 
Smith's  cave,  which  place  he  describes  as  follows : — 

"  The  place  is  distinguished  by  a  parcel  of  stones 
set  on  edge,  and  enclosing  a  piece  of  ground  raised  a 
few  feet  above  the  common  level,  which  every  one 
knows  was  the  custom  of  the  Danes,  as  well  as  of  some 

14* 


818  APPENDIX. 

other  northern  nations.  And  Wormius  observes,  that 
if  any  Danish  chief  was  slain  in  a  foreign  country,  they 
took  care  to  bury  him  as  pompously  as  if  he  had  died 
in  his  own.  Mr.  Aubrey's  account  of  it  is  this  :  'About 
a  mile  [or  less]  from  the  Hill  [White  Horse  Hill] 
there  are  a  great  many  large  stones,  which,  though 
very  confused,  must  yet  be  laid  there  on  purpose. 
Some  of  them  are  placed  edgewise,  but  the  rest  are  so 
disorderly  that  one  would  imagine  they  were  tumbled 
out  of  a  cart.'  The  disorder  which  Mr.  Aubrey  speaks 
of  is  occasioned  by  the  people  having  thrown  down 
some  of  the  stones  (for  they  all  seem  originally  to  have 
been  set  on  edge),  and  broken  them  to  pieces  to  mend 
their  highways.  Those  that  are  left  enclose  a  piece  of 
ground  of  an  irregular  figure  at  present,  but  which 
formerly  might  have  been  an  oblong  square,  extending 
only  north  and  south. 

"  On  the  east  side  of  the  southern  extremity  stand 
three  squarish  flat  stones  of  about  four  or  five  feet 
over  each  way,  set  on  edge,  and  supporting  a  fourth  of 
much  larger  dimensions,  lying  flat  upon  them.  These 
altogether  form  a  cavern  or  sheltering-place,  resembling 
pretty  exactly  those  described  by  Wormius,  Bartholine, 
and  others,  except  in  the  dimensions  of  the  stones  ;  for 
whereas  this  may  shelter  only  ten  or  a  dozen  sheep 
from  a  storm,  Wormius  mentions  one  in  Denmark  that 
would  shelter  a  hundred. 

"  I  know  of  no  other  monument  «f  this  sort  in  Eng- 


APPENDIX.  319 

land  ;  but  in  Wales  and  the  Isle  of  Anglesey  there  are 
several  not  unlike  it,  called  by  the  natives  Cromlechs. 
The  Isle  of  Anglesey  having  been  the  chief  seat  of  the 
Druids,  induced  its  learned  antiquary  to  ascribe  them  to 
the  ancient  Britons  ;  an  assertion  that  I  will  not  take 
upon  me  to  contradict,  but  shall  only  at  this  time  ob- 
serve, that  I  find  sufficient  authorities  to  convince  me 
that  ours  must  be  Danish. 

"Whether  this  remarkable  piece  of  antiquity  ever 
bore  the  name  of  the  person  here  buried  is  not  now  to 
be  learned,  the  true  meaning  of  it  being  long  since  lost 
in  ignorance  and  fable.  All  the  account  which  the 
country  people  are  able  to  give  of  it  is,  'At  this  place 
lived  formerly  an  invisible  smith ;  and  if  a  traveller's 
horse  had  lost  a  shoe  upon  the  road,  he  had  no  more  to 
do  than  to  bring  the  horse  to  this  place,  with  a  piece  of 
money,  and  leaving  both  there  for  some  little  time,  he 
might  come  again  and  find  the  money  gone,  but  the 
horse  new  shod.'  The  stones  standing  upon  the  Rudge- 
way,  as  it  is  called  (which  was  the  situation  that  they 
chose  for  burial  monuments),  I  suppose  gave  occasion 
to  the  whole  being  called  Wayland  Smith,  which  is  the 
name  it  was  always  known  by  to  the  country  people. 

"An  English  antiquary  might  find  business  enough 
who  should  attempt  to  unriddle  all  the  fabulous  tradi- 
tions of  the  vulgar,  which  ascribe  these  works  of  un- 
known antiquity  to  demons  and  invisible  powers. 

"  Leaving,  therefore,  the  story  of  the  invisible  smith 


320  APPENDIX. 

to  be  discussed  by  those  who  have  more  leisure,  I  only 
remark,  that  these  stones  are,  according  to  the  best 
Danish  antiquaries,  a  burial  altar ;  that  their  being 
raised  in  the  midst  of  a  plain  field,  near  the  great  road, 
seems  to  indicate  some  person  there  slain  and  buried, 
and  that  this  person  was  probably  a  chief  or  king ; 
there  being  no  monument  of  this  sort  near  that  place, 
perhaps  not  in  England,  beside."  (See  pp.  35,  36,  37.) 

I  have  given  Wise's  statement  of  his  own  case,  but 
the  better  opinion  amongst  antiquaries  seems  to  be  that 
he  is  wrong,  and  that  the  cromlech,  called  Wayland 
Smith'  Cave,  is  of  much  earlier  date  than  871  A.D. 

I  insert  here  the  note  from  Kenilworth  (note  B,  p. 
218)  in  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  mentions  Wayland 
Smith's  Cave : — 

"  The  great  defeat  given  by  Alfred  to  the  Danish 
invaders,  is  said  by  Mr.  Gough  to  have  taken  place 
near  Ashdown  in  Berkshire.  The  burial-place  of  Boereg, 
the  Danish  chief  who  was  slain  in  this  fight,  is  distin- 
guished by  a  parcel  of  stones,  less  than  a  mile  from  the 
hill,  set  on  edge,  enclosing  a  piece  of  ground  somewhat 
raised.  On  the  east  side  of  the  southern  extremity, 
stand  three  squarish  flat  stones,  of  about  four  or  five 
feet  over  either  way,  supporting  a  fourth,  and  now 
called  by  the  vulgar  Wayland  Smith,  from  an  idle  tradi- 
tion about  an  invisible  smith  replacing  lost  horseshoes 
there."  (Gough's  edition  of  Camden's  Britannica. 
Vol.  I.  p.  221.) 


APPENDIX.  321 

"  The  popular  belief  still  retains  memory  of  tins 
wild  legend,  which,  connected  as  it  is  with  the  site  of  a 
Danish  sepulchre,  may  have  arisen  from  some  legend 
concerning  the  northern  Duergar,  who  resided  in  the 
rocks,  and  were  cunning  workers  in  steel  and  iron.  It 
was  believed  that  Wayland  Smith's  fee  was  sixpence, 
and  that,  unlike  other  workmen,  he  was  offended  if 
more  was  offered.  Of  late  his  offices  have  been  again 
called  to  memory ;  but  fiction  has  in  this,  as  in  other 
cases,  taken  the  liberty  to  pillage  the  stores  of  oral  tra- 
dition. This  monument  must  be  very  ancient,  for  it 
has  been  kindly  pointed  out  to  me  that  it  is  referred  to 
in  an  ancient  Saxon  charter  as  a  landmark.  The  mon- 
ument has  been  of  late  cleared  out,  and  made  consider- 
ably more  conspicuous." 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  that  Sir  Walter  assumes 
the  view  of  Wise  to  be  correct,  but  he  never  saw  the 
place. 

NOTE  V. 

As  an  illustration  of  one  of  the  methods  by  which  tra- 
ditions are  kept  up  in  the  country,  I  insert  some  verses 
written  by  Job  Cork,  an  Uffington  man  of  two  genera- 
tions back,  who  was  a  shepherd  on  White  Horse  Hill 
for  fifty  years. 

"It  was  early  one  summer's  morn, 
The  weather  fine  and  very  warm, 
A  stranger  to  White  Horse  Hill  did  go 
To  view  the  plains  and  fields  below. 


822  APPENDIX. 

"  As  he  along  the  hill  did  ride, 
Taking  a  view  on  every  side, 
The  which  he  did  so  much  enjoy 
Till  a  shepherd's  dog  did  him  annoy. 

"  At  length  an  aged  man  appeared, 
A  watching  of  his  fleecy  herd, 
With  threadbare  coat  and  downcast  eye, 
To  which  the  stranger  did  draw  nigh. 

"  '  0  noble  shepherd,  can  you  tell 
How  long  you  kept  sheep  on  this  hill? 
'  Zeven  yeur  in  Zundays  I  have  been 
A  shepherd  on  this  hill  so  green.' 

"  'That  is  a  long  time,  I  must  own, 
You  have  kept  sheep  upon  this  down ; 
I  think  that  you  must  have  been  told 
Of  things  that  have  been  done  of  old.' 

" '  Ah,  Zur,  I  can  remember  well 
The  stories  the  old  voke  do  tell — 
Upon  this  hill  which  here  is  seen 
Many  a  battle  there  have  been. 

" '  If  it  is  true  as  I  heard  zay, 
King  Gaarge  did  here  the  dragon  slay, 
And  down  below  on  yonder  hill 

They  buried  him  as  I  heard  tell. 
/ 

"  'If  you  along  the  Piudgeway  go, 
About  a  mile  for  aught  I  know, 
There  Wayland's  Cave  then  you  may  see 
Surrounded  by  a  group  of  trees. 

" '  They  say  that  in  this  cave  did  dwell 
A  smith  that  was  invisible ; 
At  last  he  was  found  out,  they  say, 
He  blew  up  the  place  and  vlod  away. 

"  '  To  Devonshire  then  he  did  go, 
Full  of  sorrow,  grief,  and  woe, 
Never  to  return  again, 
So  here  I'll  add  the  shepherd's  name — 

JOB  COKK.' 


APPENDIX.  323 

There  is  no  merit  in  the  lines  beyond  quaintness  ;  but 
they  are  written  in  the  sort  of  jingle  which  the  poor 
remember ;  they  have  lived  for  fifty  years  and  more, 
and  will  probably,  in  quiet  corners  of  the  Vale,  out- 
live the  productions  of  much  more  celebrated  verse- 
makers  than  Job  Cork,  though  probably  they  were 
never  reduced  into  writing  until  written  out  at  my  re- 
quest. 

Job  Cork  was  a  village  humorist,  and  stories  are  still 
told  of  his  sayings,  some  of  which  have  a  good  deal  of 
fun  in  them ;  I  give  one  example  in  the  exact  words  in 
which  it  was  told  to  me  : — 

"  One  night  as  Job  Cork  came  off  the  downs,  drough- 
wet  to  his  very  skin,  it  happened  his  wife  had  been  a 
baking.  So,  when  he  went  to  bed,  his  wife  took  his 
leather  breeches,  and  put  'em  in  the  oven  to  dry  'em. 
When  he  woke  in  the  morning  he  began  to  feel  about 
for  his  thengs,  and  he  called  out,  and  zed, '  Betty,  where 
be  mee  thengs ? '  'In  the  oven,'  zed  his  wife.  Zo  he 
looked  in  the  oven  and  found  his  leather  breeches  all 
cockled  up  together  like  a  piece  of  parchment,  and  he 
bawled  out, '  0  Lard  !  0  Lard  !  what  be  I  to  do  ?  Was 
ever  man  plagued  as  I  be  ?  '  '  Patience,  Job,  patience, 
Job,'  zed  his  wife  ;  '  remember  thy  old  namesake,  how 
he  was  plagued.'  'Ah ! '  zed  the  old  man,  '  a  was  plagued 
surely  ;  but  his  wife  never  baked  his  breeches.'  " 

Other  shepherds  of  the  Hill  have  been  poets  in  a 
rough  sort  of  way.  I  add  one  of  their  home-made  songs, 


324  APPENDIX. 

as  I  am  anxious  to  uphold  the  credit  of  my  country- 
men as  a  tuneful  race. 

"  Come,  all  you  shepherds  as  minds  for  to  be, 

You  must  have  a  gallant  heart, 
You  must  not  be  down-hearted, 

You  must  a-bear  the  smart ; 
You  must  a-bear  the  smart,  my  boys, 

Let  it  hail  or  rain  or  snow, 
For  there  is  no  ale  to  be  had  on  the  Hill 

Where  the  wintry  wind  doth  blow. 

"  When  I  kept  sheep  on  White  Horse  Hill 

My  heart  began  to  ache, 
My  old  ewes  all  hung  down  their  heads, 

And  my  lambs  began  to  bleat. 
Then  I.  cheered  up  with  courage  bold, 

And  over  the  Hill  did  go, 
For  there  is  no  ale  to  be  had  on  the  Hill 

When  the  wintry  wind  doth  blow. 

"  I  drive  my  sheep  into  the  fold, 

To  keep  them  safe  all  night, 
For  drinking  of  good  ale,  my  boys, 

It  is  my  heart's  delight. 
I  drove  my  sheep  into  the  fold, 

And  homeward  I  did  go, 
For  there  is  no  ale  to  be  had  on  the  Hill 

When  the  wintiy  wind  doth  blow. 

"  We  shepherds  are  the  liveliest  lads 

As  ever  trod  English  ground, 
If  we  drops  into  an  ale-house 

We  values  not  a  crownd. 
We  values  not  a  crownd,  my  boys, 

We'll  pay  before  we  go, 
.  For  there  is  no  ale  to  be  had  on  the  Hill 
When  the  wintry  wind  doth  blow." 


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i 

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by   TlCKNOR    AND    FlELDS.  5 

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6         A  Li§t  of  Books  Publifhed 


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by   TlCKNOR    AND    FlELDS.  7 

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io       A  Lift  of  Books  Publifhed 
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14       A  Lift  of  Books  Publifhed 
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16       A  Lift  of  Books  Publifhed. 
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